Syroc's In Flight OMAKE: RANDOM edition!
by Syroc
Summary: These are all stories written by me for the sake of amusing and entertaining others from the TFF In Flight omake section. Most stories are based on the story In Flight by Gabriel Blessing.
1. A Perfectly Logical Explanation

**A Perfectly Logical Explanation**

The words paralyzed me where I sat, my mind suddenly worrying numb from a combination of alcohol and shock.

"Shirou-san?" Miya asked, a questioning look forming on her face as she took in my stunned demeanor. "Is something wrong?"

"So there _was_ a tournament in Fuyuki city!" Matsu slurred out triumphantly, attempting to point at Shirou in victory but missing.

I suddenly felt very weary, and could not stop the sigh from escaping me.

"Yes, there was." I admitted, as if it was the hardest thing in the world for me to do. In a way, it was. I had spent months carefully cultivating a gentle, harmless image of myself. The truth was wholly irreconcilable with this image: I had fought, and _won_, a war against impossibly powerful creatures and horrifically evil people. That while I was smiling and happily cooking their meals, there was also a part of me that was always plotting, always scheming, always looking for the best way to kill someone so as to minimize the damage they could inflict upon others. These poor creatures. They wanted a story of their Ashikabi's misspent youth, and what I was about to give them was the unadulterated truth with all the blood and thorns still on it.

I told them everything. The real cause of the fire that had 'orphaned' me. My adoptive father's true identity and my first steps into the world of magic. The fifth Holy Grail War, and many of its horrors. And then, at the end, of my own forbidden magic and what the situation it put us into.

I left nothing out. I couldn't. They had to know these things if they were to be safe.

It took a surprisingly short amount of time to do so, too. It seemed as if I was done just as I was getting started.

But what surprised me more than that was response to my tale.

"You know," Matsu said reproachfully, her slur having vanished sometime when I'd been telling the story. "if you didn't want to tell us you could have just said so. You don't have to lie like that."

A wave of nods went through the room, with the exceptions being Miya, Kuu-chan and Akitsu who either knew better or were too young to not believe in the sort of things I'd talked about. Though Kuu-chan had gotten the edited version, effortlessly coordinating the lavender-haired landlady to shield the young girl's ears from the worst of it.

For a moment I could only stare dumbly at the brain-sekirei, my mind going blank as it tried to process just what had happened.

"What?" I finally managed to get out, my voice weak with disbelief. "But I didn't lie!"

"Come on, Shirou." Homura admonished, 'tsk'ing lightly under his breath. "Everyone knows magic isn't real."

"B, but you control fire!" I protested, uncertainty riding my voice. I wasn't sure if I should be indignant that I was being accused of lying or that the truth was simply too outlandish for anyone to believe it.

"Yes, but _I'm_ an alien." Homura pointed out as if that explained everything. "You're just a human."

Another round of nods.

"But I can smell sekirei and their powers!" I tried, a note of desperation in my voice. I wasn't quite sure why I wanted this conversation to keep going, but I suppose there was a morbid curiosity inside of me thatcouldn't resist finding out how far I needed to push before someone started believing me.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for that." Matsu answered, frowning at me. "Just because I can't explain it doesn't make it magic."

"I can fight with sekirei on equal grounds!" I persisted, gesturing wildly at Miya. "You've all seen me do it!"

"You're simply very skilled, husband." Tsukiumi refuted, frowning slightly. "This is very unbecoming, Shirou. You should just tell us the truth."

"Ahh!" Yukari suddenly shouted excitedly, pointing wildly at me. "I've figured it out! I know what onii-chan's secret is!"

"I just told you my secrets!" I cried out in dismay.

"He's really a cyborg!" My sister eagerly explained, her eyes wide with "He was sent back to Shin-Tokyo by his corporate overlords in order to find out more about the Sekirei plan, but then he found out about his long-lost family and decided that he had to find out for himself what having a family was like!"

"That doesn't make any sense at all!" I protest, but apparently I was alone in that opinion.

"That would certainly explain why he's so fast and strong..." Homura mused idly, rubbing his chest as he did.

"And also why he has no faith in love!" Musubi chirped in agreement. "Robots have no hearts!"

"I'm not a robot!"

"Don't worry, onii-chan!" Yukari assured my happily. "You're darling sister will rescue you from their evil clutches!"

"I'm already out-" I stop myself before I could fully respond, realizing what I had been about to say would only confirm the ridiculous claim. "I've never been a part of an evil corporation!"

I suppose that in a technical sense the Mage's Association didn't count as a corporation, and only narrowly avoided being outright evil with a caveat of 'lesser' tacked on to it. But that wasn't the point!

I sighed once more cradling my head in my hands as Izumo Inn once more degenerated into ridiculous gossip.

* * *

Kuu-chan eventually sidled up to me inconspicuously while the rest of my flock bickered and argued over which degree of robotics had been inflicted on my body (I carefully ignored the perverted old-man laugh Matsu was giving off as she muttered something about 'special enhancements') dragging a subdued Akitsu into the discussion seemings how she had just recently had ample opportunity to find any hidden electrodes that might be hidden on me. Her empathic denial seemed to do nothing to dispel the suspicions, though.

"Onii-chan has magic swords?" The green-girl said to me, though there was a note of questioning to her statement that made me smile despite myself

"Yes, Kuu-chan." I answered. "I have magic swords."

"How many?" She asked, getting excited at the prospect that not only did her onii-chan have swords, but that he was also _magical_.

"All of them." I state simply, unable to stop myself from a spontaneous attack of meme. "I have all of the swords."

"Fuwaaah." Kusano gasped, obviously impressed by my boast, before promptly tackling-hugging me. "Onii-chan is _so_ cool!"

* * *

Somewhere in a corner, Haruka and Kuno shared a wary glance.

"Weren't we supposed to appear in this omake?" They both asked.

Beside them, totally forgotten by everyone, Seo and the lightening twins shrugged. "Get used to the background, kids."


	2. Confrontation

**Confrontation**

I cursed myself for letting this happen. Well, no. That didn't make sense. I curse Higa for egging my sister on in her misguided crusade to sage me from my 'evil ways' and providing her with allies to do so. Once I'm done dealing with this and manage to calm my sister down, I'll deal with him.

Because apparently my sister had been quite vocal about her goal after she had left Izumo House and that information had gotten back to Kakizaki, who had been all too willing to discretely aid my sister in her quest that amounted to attacking me.

And now my flock was fighting for their lives against impossible odds, a battle that even if won would ultimately be a defeat. Because with the amount of sekirei arrayed against us, there would have to be casualties.

I would have to make sure none of them was someone cared about.

As my sister prepared to face off against me, I sighed ruefully.

"I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cut this short." I apologize, and without warning I trace Bakuya and Kanshou.

My sisters eyes go wide at the open display of magic, and I take advantage of her distraction to turn away to enter the fray.

"Wait!" My sister shouts, and something inside of me compels me to stay to listen to her for a moment. "How did you do that?"

"I am a magi." I inform her simply. There was no time for more explanation: I had to help the others.

For a moment she can only stare, and then she frowns.

"You mean that not only are you a warrior with a troubled past, but you're also a magical warrior?"

I shrug, which seems to be more than enough confirmation for my sister.

"Damn it!" She curses loudly before stomping away angrily. "I knew I should have brought my manga! This sort of thing happens all the time!"


	3. Shouldn't Akon Be Here Somewhere?

_Transcribed (sorta) from the forums_

**Biigoh**: *Grimdark yet awesome OMAKE!* Rawr! Behold my power! _Kneel before Biigoh!_

**Syroc**: Why so serious? _Random attack!_

**"Shouldn't Akon be in here somewhere?"**

"You two had sex!" the hacker shrieked excitedly at the top of her lungs.

My sister was the first to arrive, moving like greased lightning to appear before us with a manic grin on her face.

"Really?" She asked, practically bouncing with excitement. "Is it true? Who was it?"

Beside me Akitsu gave a warm smile, and that seemed proof enough for the girls. Yukari gave a squeal of excitement before rushing to the ice maiden's (or maybe not?) side.

"What was he like?" My sister asked, fishing for details.

"That's not something a sister should ask!" I protest, blushing fiercely.

"I cannot quite explain it..." The ice-wielder admitted quietly, though there was something in her voice that caught my attention. There was a certain cadence to her speech... "But I think I could sing it."

"What?" I gasped, shocked at the sudden out of character moment.

I think the impossible power of the newly winged ice-sekirei caused reality to break a little in that moment, because just as I finished making my astonished query music seemed to begin radiating from the very walls while a pair of spectral copies of Akitsu appeared on either side of her. The room dimmed into darkness while pillars of neon coloured lights began flashing and spinning around us like some kind of demented, magical dance club.

Perhaps it was because of my intense shock that I was unable to stop myself from saying what I did next.

"Did you just manifest a reality marble?" I demanded, a little bit of awe in my voice.

I could only stand and gape in mortified fascination as reality proceeded to unravel around us. Was the natural state of the Sekirei truly _this_ powerful? I seemed to be bearing witness to the proof of the matter. I think I could begin to understand just why MBI had 'adjusted' the Sekirei if this was the sort of thing that came naturally to them.

I received no answer. Instead, the music thrumming forth from the walls swelled in power and Akitsu began her song.

Her horrible, embarrassing and _completely_ inappropriate song.

_"I just had seeee-x  
And it felt so good (felt so good)  
Shirou put his penis inside of me (of me)_

"_I just had seeee-x  
And I'll never go back (never go back)  
To the not-having-sex ways of the past!"_

Matsu, my sister and I could only gape at the woman's flippant admission. That the way she expressed it happened to be through the majesty of pop-song only further flabbergasted us.

"_Have you ever had sex?  
I have: it felt great!  
Felt so good when he did it with his penis._

"_The shed's where we did it,  
It literally just happened  
But I guess you'd know from seein' us."_

As if it wasn't enough that Akitsu was breaking reality and common decency with her spontaneous outburst of song, my horror was further compounded by Kazehana entering the room with a perplexed look on her face. She took in the recent modifications to the living room with a small quirk of her head before her eyes narrowed on Akitsu, who whirled to face her with an eager grin.

And the song continued.

_"Never guess where I just came from  
I had sex  
If I had to describe the feelin': it was the best!_

"_When I had the sex,  
girls, my vagina felt great  
And I cuddled up to Shirou when I was done."_

Uzume had by now emerged from the staircase wearing a horrified grimace that no doubt mirrored my own as she came face to face with the unreality of what was going on. Without warning Akitsu wheeled around to face her, already working on a new verse to her strange song.

"_Oh, hey! Didn't see ya there  
Guess what I just did?  
Had sex, got undressed  
Showed my boobies and the rest."_

She ended her aria by pointing at Uzume, who inexplicably began to sing. The confused look on her face as she did so was almost enough to make me smile despite the gravity of the situation.

"_Must've been nice for you to do that thing."_

Without missing a beat Akitsu answered in song, freeing Uzume from her magic.

"_Nicest the ever!  
Now __sing__!"_

I'd been hoping that I would be spared what happened next, but apparently that was not to be as she ended her commanded by pointing at me. There was no chance for me to resist, and even if there had been I doubt I would have succeeded. The unearthly power on display was making me more than a little envious of the ice-user's natural ability. My own reality-warping skills had only come about through a series of unlikely events involving a magical battle-royale that happened every sixty years except that one time in which I had faced off against a callous, sadistic and suicidal future version of myself from which I stole the ability. Or borrowed. Or learned via spiritual osmosis. I actually wasn't quite sure just what had happened there, but I wasn't about to complain. And even the insanity of that had left me woefully unprepared for the sheer power of Akitsu's magic.

The song burst from my mouth before I could stop it, my voice flanging and echoing unnaturally as I did.

_"I just had seeee-x  
And it felt so good (so good)  
Akitsu let me put my penis inside of her (her)  
I wanna tell the world!"_

Thankfully that seemed to satisfy the ice-wielder, as she gave a brief nod and then returned to her song once more.

_"To be honest I was surprised that I even got my wings  
(It didn't really make sense)  
But hey, screw it!  
I aint one to argue with a good thing  
(And now I'm his wife!)  
It was that good?  
(The best three hours of my life!)_

Without waiting for the woman to finish the verse I decided that enough was enough. After all, there was a chance that Kusano could walk in on this strange assault on rationality.

"Okay, I think they get the picture!" I shouted out in protest, hoping that the sound of my voice would somehow be enough to shatter the ice-woman's spell.

Thankfully, it seemed that drawing Akitsu's attention back to me was enough to cause her reality-warping magic to falter as an intense blush spreading across her cheeks, the full gravity of what she had just done began to sink in. The walls stopped radiating the strange music, and the ghostly specters at either side of Akitsu vanished with a brief wink of light.

For a moment silence reigned as we all stared in shocked awe of Akitsu's power.

"Shirou-san." I heard the loud twin wooden clacks of would as Miya approached, her hannya appearing amidst a black cloud of malevolence and a veritable swarm of lesser masks. "What's this I hear about lewd acts?

Ah. I knew something was missing from this frightening display of magical power. Not nearly enough doom.

* * *

If you don't know the song that was used, then you have done yourself a great disservice.


	4. The Long Walk

**The Long Walk**

I sighed as I once again tripped one of Matsu's many traps for me, glad that Kusano was too busy playing with Akitsu at the moment to take any interest in what her onii-chan was getting frustrated with. With a scowl I closed the video window, wondering briefly just how anyone could possibly draw pleasure from what I had witnessed. I didn't even want to know where the pies can into it.

As time had worn on the tarps she'd been leaving for me had grown increasingly exotic and outlandish. The pie wasn't the worst of what she had to offer, but it was certainly one of the strangest. I think she was hoping that one of them would cause me to simply pause and try and reason out whatever it was that was transpiring on the screen, but so far the only thing she'd managed was to annoy me.

I returned to my search for the info I needed. If the Grail War had taught me anything, it was that there was no such thing as to much information. So many mistakes, so many disastrous events and pointless deaths could have been avoided if I'd simply known what was going on. Or even what the hell I was doing.

At the moment I was only double-checking what I already knew, refreshing my memory of the other combatants in the Sekirei Plan and adding small tidbits to what I'd already dedicated to memory as I did so.

It was only when I was switching through the various Ashikabi dossiers that I tripped yet another one of Matsu's traps, and the doohickey in my hands was suddenly dominated by a different window.

It wasn't porn. I was glad for that much at least. As effective as her little snippets of erotica was in directing my interest towards improving my technical skills they did grow tiresome. I couldn't help but wonder what Matsu would think if she succeeded in her quest to make me tech-savvy only to realize that she'd forever numbed me (beyond the level I already was) to sex.

It looked like an article of some kind.

Alien Geometry

Huh. That looked kind of interesting. And the quotation brought a wry smile to my mouth. With a small amount of curiosity I read on, finding myself engrossed in the suddenly fascinating bit of literature.

And then I noticed that the article was littered with various links and even a few examples, some of which looked like they might be of particular interest to me. I opened a few tabs to read them as well, my interest sparked.

_*A few hours later*_

"I never noticed that before..." I muttered quietly to myself eventually, all sense of time having long ago fading away.

"Shirou-tan?" Someone asked, concerned.

"Bwuh?" I gasp, startled out of my stupor by the sound of someone else speaking. "Matsu-san? Is something wrong?"

"It's getting a bit late." She said, giving me a strange look. "Don't you think you should get some rest?"

I blink my eyes blearily, about to protest when I noticed that the afternoon I had been sitting in had suddenly changed to late night, and the livingroom was abandoned save for Matsu and I.

"Ah, yes." I say, stifling a yawn. "I'll just finish this and then I'll be right up."

The red headed Sekirei smiled brightly at me in response.

"Fufufu, don't keep us waiting too long, Shirou-tan!" She said with her signature perverted laugh.

I nodded, turning back to the article I was reading...

_*The next morning*_

"Shirou? Have you been here all night?" A voice, Homura I recognized after a moment, queried with sleepy surprise.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

My fatigue was too great to do so, as I was half-convinced that I was already half-asleep.

This had to be magecraft of the greatest sort. There was simply no other way it could be possible to so thoroughly ensnare someone of even my impressive resistance. And it had to be magic of some kind. There was no other explanation for why I found myself unable to tear myself away from the screen. I had undoubtedly underestimated the resources of the Mages Association if they were able to so seamlessly mix magic and technology. Somewhere in their ranks was some kind evil genius lurking, happily weaving his spells into the very internet and then just waiting for hapless victims to stumble across it and then sucking their life out of them.

My only hope was that they had done this simply out of casual cruelty and not, as I was beginning to suspect, as a method of incapacitating a victim in order to render someone helpless to encroaching Enforcers. I'd always known that they were unorthodox in their methods, but I could only pray that they weren't quite this sinister.

"Shirou? Is something wrong?" Someone sidled up next to me, looking at what had transfixed me so easily. I would have warned him away, shouted for him to save himself, but I was too thoroughly trapped by the insidious spell that had claimed me. "Oh god. How did you get here?"

"rrruuun-" I gasped out tiredly, and the effort to do so cost me greatly. I clicked a new link, and the siren song was renewed.

"Matsu!" The fire user shouted in desperation. "Get down here _now_!"

Aha! Of course! Matsu would know how to break this spell! She had to have come across this before, and she was still here! Surely she of all people would be able to resist this

"Homura?" The brain-type murmured sleepily a few moments later as she descended from her room, rubbing sleep out of her eyes. And then she caught eye of me, still transfixed where she had left me the night before. "Shirou? Have you been there all night?"

"You sent him to TvTropes!" Homura accused. "You _had_ to know this would happen! You've seen the way he inhales new information!"

Ah. So apparently I wasn't the only person who had fallen victim to this spell. So much the better. If it was a well documented affliction, it would be easy for Matsu to help me.

_Click_. Oh. That's interesting…

"What?" Matsu said, confused. "But, the porn didn't even faze him! Why would-"

"Idiot!" The fire Sekirei at my side scolded. "It gets everyone, no matter how strong their resolve! Help me get this thing out of his hands…"

"Noooo-" I murmur in weak protest as the doohickey was wrested from my grasp. "L'me f'nish!"

"This is for your own good, Shirou!" Homura assured me, and though I wanted to believe him _I had to finish reading!_


	5. Fear And Loathing In ShinTokyo

**Fear and Loathing In Shin Tokyo**

Haruka sighed deeply in relief as the crazy girl finally left to go do whatever it was the demented spawn of the Sahashi name did whenever they weren't inflicting their madness on poor, unsuspecting spectators.

Kuno shifted awkwardly where she sat, watching him with a worried look.

"Haruka-san," She eventually said, averting her gaze somewhat as she did. "Are you sure we did the right thing?"

The student gave another sigh, this time a long-suffering one. As much as he loved Kuno, sometimes she really frustrated him. Hadn't she heard the things that lunatic had said? Did it somehow not strike her as insane, or paranoid, or at the very least murderously psychotic? He'd formulated plans to murder three of his competitors in order to bring the Sekirei Plan to an end, and that had been the lesser evil of offensive plans. He'd spoken openly of killing _hundreds_ of people, many of whom would most likely be guilty of no more than being associated with MBI, in an act of terrorism! All of this while appearing no more threatening than some stay-at-home house-husband. The man even wore a 'kiss the cook' apron! The man was murder just waiting to happen!

"Of course we did." Haruka said derisively, and perhaps a bit more forcefully than he'd fully intended if the way Kuno recoiled from his tone was anything to go by. "You heard him, Kuno. When things get rough, nobody's gonna be safe from whatever he's got planned.

"Oh." Kuno said quietly, nodding along. "But wouldn't we have been safe if we just didn't make any trouble?"

"He's _insane_, Kuno." Was the snarling retort. "There'd be no telling when he got paranoid of us, and then what would happen? You can't fight, and I sure as hell can't. We'd be dead inside the hour. No, better that we find somewhere to hide and then wait for a chance to get out of this-" Haruka paused in his tirade, turning his head to the side as if to strain his ears. "Do you hear that?"

Kuno blinked, and a moment later nodded with a look of worry.

'That' was a quiet grinding noise, like steel on stone. It had started out as a whisper of a sound, but in the rapidly falling night it managed to put the two much more ill at ease than it might have otherwise. And each passing moment, it was getting louder.

"Moving is prohibited."

The multi-faced apparition paralyzed the two of them, the horror of what they were witnessing being just as potent then as when they had first seen it. That it wasn't bleeding from the eyes did nothing to lessen the horror of the unearthly entity.

From out of the darkness of dusk Emiya Shirou emerged, his arrival managing to avoid being a horribe cliché by instead being a terrifying reality. Gone was the easy smile that had fooled Haruka so handily before, replaced instead by a tired but grimly determined expression. Vanished was the man who enjoyed helping others, replaced instead by menace. But it wasn't his expression that was so foreboding.

No, it was the two swords in his hands that set them both on edge. The sound that had caused them to pause in their discussion was coming from the black blade Kanshou as it was dragged across the concrete walls of a building, tracing a shallow cut in the stone their wielder approached them.

Emiya Shirou didn't look nice any more. He looked like he'd stepped out of a horror film.

If there had been any doubt in either of them that Shirou was just as murderously determined as Haruka had first claimed, that doubt vanished like morning mist in the face of Shirou's approach.

Through superhuman effort Kuno lunged for her Ashikabi, seeking to protect him somehow from what looked like a grim fate.

Shirou's left hand blurred with sudden motion, which was paired with a whistling whir as the sword in his hand was thrown, the pristine white blade of Bakuya flashing brightly in the dying light of the day before biting deep into the concrete with a loud _crunch_.

That seemed to be enough to stop even the sekirei in her tracks, as she froze midstride with her eyes riveted on

"I said don't move." Emiya Shirou reminded them pointedly, never for a moment slowing his approach.

Haruka eyed the buried blade warily, as if he expected it to leap out and bite him somehow. He noted, with some alarm, that the blade had sunk halfway into the ground, as if the stone sidewalk had provided no more resistance than other, more pliant materials. Like flesh. The thought was not a comforting one.

Eventually the red-haired ashikabi was standing right in front of them, looking them over carefully. And then his free hand found the hilt of Bakuya, and with a small grunt of effort pulled it free.

Shirou looked them over once more, then nodded slightly to himself.

The terrifying apparition vanished, and as one Haruka and Kuno sagged in relief. It took only a moment for Haruka to recover enough to remember his vitriol, however.

"What are _you_ doing here?" He demanded angrily, though there was a note of worry in his question. He wasn't sure that

"I'm here to make sure you don't talk to anybody about what you heard today." Shirou answered, looking down imperiously on them. (It had taken Saber almost all of their years together for him to master the look, but she'd been adamant that any lover of hers would have to be able to look down on someone in a regal manner. Shirou had been unwilling to put up much of an argument.)

"So you _are_ going to kill us!" Haruka shouted, backing away quickly. "Kuno, run! Get out of- oomph!"

Whatever he'd been about to stay was cut off as Shirou slapped his face with flat of his sword, sending him sprawling to the ground. Kuno gasped with concern and leapt to her fallen ashikabi's side, eyeing Shirou warily the whole time.

"I'm not here to kill you." Shirou assured neutrally, lightening his stance a bit. "In spite of what you might think, I don't like killing people even if I have to."

"Then what _are_ you here for?" The other said with a snarl, clutching at his bruised face.

"To scare you." The answer was so simple that for a moment Haruka didn't quite understand.

"What?" He asked dumbly.

There was no warning for what came next. There was only a blur of motion as Shirou brought a blade down, mere inches away from Haruka's face.

"I'm going to make you fear me." Shirou clarified.

Haruka was silent as he stared at the cold steel that hung menacingly close.

"Right now you're angry and looking for a scapegoat to your problems." Shirou continued calmly, as if he was talking about the weather. "You seem to think _I'm_ the source of your troubles."

And now Shirou looked down with flint in his eyes, staring hard at the prone man.

"You might do something stupid, like try tell someone about what you heard tonight. And that would be a _mistake_."

Haruka felt his blood run cold at the implication that hung in the air.

"It's important for you to know that I'm not doing this because I don't like you." Shirou went on. "I'm doing this because you might endanger those I care about. I don't care whether you believe my story or not, I don't even care if you think I'm crazy. But if I thought for one second that killing you was the only way to make sure you never told anybody about what you heard..."

The blade snaked forward, tracing a thin cut across Haruka's cheek, causing him to gasp in pain.

"You're only one person, Haruka. Your death would help keep many safe." Shirou bent low, bring his own face close to Haruka's. "And if I thought for one second that you might cause my friends and family to get hurt, I would not hesitate to end you. So the choice is yours, Haruka-san."

And then Shirou smiled again, that easy smile that had lied to them so many times before.

"You can live in fear of me, or you can die hating me. Which would you prefer?"

"You're _insane_!" Haruka accused, though he did it quietly.

"Maybe." Shirou answered with a shrug. "But that doesn't really matter, does it? Can I trust you to stay quiet about tonight?"

Haruka looked once more at the black blade that seemed to be caressing his face. A quick glance over at Kuno, who was watching the exchange with wide, horrified eyes was all he needed to arrive at his answer.

"Yes." He said at last, scowling.

That treacherous smile widened slightly, and Shirou straightened himself out and turned away, returning to the gloom of night.

"Good." Shirou said without looking back. "Oh, and if you ever get tired of living on your own Izumo House would welcome you back."


	6. Say My Name

_Transcribed (sorta) from the forums_

**Silversun17**: Your new avatar is silly.

**Syroc**: :C

**Kittybear**: *threatens to eat the face of Syroc's Avatar*

**Syroc**: Gah! _Distraction no Jutsu!_ *Throws up wall of omake*

**Say My Name**

"We need to do something about your name."

The two of them were sitting at the table, enjoying their breakfast before their day began.

Saber blinked at the sudden declaration, quirking her head to glance over at Tohsaka Rin, her flatmate and lover.

"What's wrong with my name?" She demanded, her voice full of reproach.

The petite mage shrugged casually, taking a sip of her tea before responding.

"'Saber' is hardly a common name, you know. Someone's bound to ask about it eventually."

The blonde woman scoffed at this.

"Maybe not common _here_, perhaps."

"Or anywhere else." Tohsaka countered. "It's a _word_, not a name. And what about surname? 'Pendragon' is suspicious. We need to find a different one."

The swordswoman was quiet for a moment before responding.

"I suppose there is some truth to that." She answered slowly. "And we certainly can't use my real name. That'd be entirely too dangerous."

The two seemed to ponder for a moment just what to call the ancient entity of heroism, the once and future king and the King of Knights. There weren't exactly a whole lot of options. Eventually however, Rin seemed to brighten up.

"Penny Knightsworth!" Rin announced triumphantly.

Saber blinked in surprise, before scowling.

"That's a ridiculous name." She said, shooting down the idea. "What kind of self-respecting king would call themselves 'Penny'?"

"The kind that was trying to keep a low profile?" Rin suggested.

"Hmmph. No. That will not do." Saber stated, and her expression turned thoughtful once more. "I will be Guinevere Recks."

Tohsaka stared long and hard at the reincarnated hero, her face locked in one of her many scary expressions.

"That's hardly _subtle_, is it?" She countered, before frowning. "Why Guinevere?"

Saber blushed lightly, busying herself with her toast.

"I've always liked the name." She said, her embarrassment showing.

"Oh." Rin answered, nodding slightly. "Well, I suppose we can call you Gwen."

"Guinevere." Saber corrected fiercely. "You will adress me by my full name!"

"Which actually isn't Guinevere at all?" Rin said with a small chuckle. "Anyway, we still need to find a surname. We can't go around calling you rex, after all."

The knight scowled fiercely, muttering incoherently as she turned away. The thought of all the deception was as anathema to her, and she'd tried to work in a bit of subtle truth in the name.

"An anagram, maybe?" Rin suggested. "Poerdang? Narpodeg?"

Saber gave a scandalized gasp.

"What kind of names are those for an Englishwoman?" She demanded angrily. "No! Unacceptable!"

"How about D'mina?"

"I thought we were trying to be subtle?"

"Meredith, then?"

"That's a first name."

"Rhiannon?"

"I was a _king!_"

"Emyr, then?"

"Guinevere Emyr? Are we trying to rhyme?"

"Ray?"

"You would have me use a _french_ name?"

"Donald?"

"Isn't that a duck?"

"McArthur?"

Saber opened her mouth to protest, then paused with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"That might work." She said slowly. "Guinevere McArthur..." She said the name slowly, as if tasting the words.

"If you don't like it then you can figure out one for yourself." Rin said darkly, putting down her tea. "Tell me what you've decided on when I get later, yes?"

"Hmph."

* * *

Some of the naming silliness explained:

Recks = Rex, which is latin for 'king'

D'mina = Domina, which is latin for 'Lady'

Rhiannon = Welsh, means 'great queen'

Emyr = Welsh, means 'king'

Ray = French, means 'kingly'

Donald = Scottish, means 'Ruler of the World'


	7. Unholy Alliance

**Unholy Alliance**

This was stupid.

I can't believe that I'd ever thought this was a good idea.

It was, in fact, one of the most horribly stupid thing that I'd ever even considered doing. And I'd once gotten myself disembowelled while trying to save an immortal spirit of heroism. Rin had always been quick to point that out to me whenever there were important decisions to be made, and even I had to admit that it was not one of my finer moments.

_This_, however, had to rank somewhere high up on my grand list of stupidities.

But, like so many _other_ things that had happened in my life, it had made sense at the time.

After all, how _else_ was I going to get the Enforcers off my back?

Still, it did not change the fact that I was in _grave_ danger. I couldn't afford to get sloppy. If I faltered for one second, they would be on me like a pack of wolves. Well, me and my father.

Yes, it seemed that Emiya Kiritsugu and I had much more in common than anyone could ever have suspected. Whereas Kiritsugu's father had been a vampire and a dangerous Philosopher, my own father was a mad scientist who had concocted a plan to steal the powers of an alien race for his own. Well, his own and whoever won his insane contest. To quote him: "It seemed fair to me that the one who won my little game would get a portion of the prize!"

The man was insane, and his madness threatened to bring about the death of an entire species, bastardized as it already was from his 'adjustments'.

And now, I was going kill him.

To make sure that no other Sekirei would ever have to participate in his demented games, to save all those I had unwittingly delivered right into his hands and as revenge for everything he'd tried to do.

"Ah! Minato-kun, here at last!" My father shouted gleefully from the depths of the lab. "Good, we can get started! Which power do you want?"

This was so very stupid.

I'd come here _alone_, of all things. To keep my flock safe, I'd reasoned at the time. If I died here, or was captured, there was at least a chance that they would survive. Takami would take care of that much, at least. But if they were here when my 'allies' arrived I would be gambling a _lot_. I held no illusions that if the prize was great enough they'd betray me in a heartbeat, and flock of aliens that could be disabled simply my killing or even just killing me would be something they wouldn't hesitate to turn on me for.

I was already risking too much as it was. I wouldn't allow them to risk capture at the hands of the Mages Association as well.

But I would have buy time for the Enforcers to join me and finish what I can't. And I know I won't be able to. I have no illusions about my abilities: against the collected power of the fallen sekirei I would be hard pressed to hold my own even if I had attained the full use of Unlimited Blade Works, which I lamentably had not.

My only advantage here was that I was greatly acquainted with my magic. My father's abilities would be new and alien to him. I could use that.

"I don't need any." I inform the insane man.

"What?" The white-haired man squawked indignantly. "Nonono, this is _not_ how things work! _You_ pick your powers, then _I_ pick _my_ powers, and then we take over the world! Simple! What's not to understand? Ahh! I call dibs on lightening powers, though!"

"But I don't need any, Minaka." I explain, calmly, allowing my adrenalin to begin to flow as I readied myself for combat.

"No?" Minaka asked, quirking his head to the side slightly. "Are you sure? There's some pretty exotic ones, if I may say so myself. Are you sure?" I shook my head once more, which seemed to genuinely surprise my father. "But _why_? Don't you _want_ to be a god?"

"I told you once already: the age of gods is over, and mankind is better off without them." I remind him, and now I begin to draw closer. "And besides, I already have power of my own."

The man in front of me goggled openly at me for a moment before he frowned.

"You aren't going to start spouting about the power of friendship, are you?" He demanded. "Because this _really_ isn't that kind of game, you know."

"What?" I ask, somewhat surprised by the question. "I-_no_, that _wasn't_ the kind of power I was talking about."

"Oh good." Minaka said, beaming brightly. "Hey, wanna see something cool?"

"What?" I snap, a bit angry that the conversation I'd originally planned out wouldn't be happening.

"_Unlimited __**power**_!" My father roared dramatically, and pointed a finger at me.

I'd like to say that it was because I hadn't expected my father to so quickly turn on me that I was unprepared for his sudden attack. But the truth of the matter was that I was still recovering from his sudden and seemingly random line of questioning.

In either case I was completely unprepared for the sudden burst of lightning that lanced from his fingers and slammed into me, filling my world with pain. I could feel my blood boiling in my veins and smell my own skin burning as I was bathed in electricity. The pained shout tore its way out of my throat before I could stop it, though the sound of my voice seemed to stop my father's vicious onslaught.

I sagged down to my knees, breathing heavily, not for the first time thankful for Avalon's healing effects. Even now, despite my burned flesh, I could feel life returning to me even as my magic circuits began to warm slightly.

"I'm sorry, I just couldn't resist!" My father said, as if he has simply made a small faux pas and not just electrocuted his own son. "I mean, the situation was just _too_ perfect. The rebellious son, the plan to take over everything, and then I totally remembered that I already took the lightning powers just so you couldn't beat me to it."

The man was _insane_. If ever there was a doubt in me that this had to be done, it was snuffed out then and there.

"Trace on." I grit out, and begin forcing myself back to my feet. My circuits surge with power as I invoke my own special brand of magic. Power seeps into my body, reinforcing it beyond what any mundane human could ever dream of achieving.

"What was that?" My father asks, suddenly full of curiosity.

"I am the bone of my sword." I state, and in that moment I know it to be true. I do not need to create swords: I _am_ a sword.

Blades fade into existence behind me, nameless weapons wielded by forgotten men and women who had fallen in battle. Three, six, nine of them... I send them slashing slashing out like so many arrows fired from a nightmarish cannon.

My father has time only to gasp in shock before he throws himself to the ground and rolls away. My blades bury themselves in a line behind him before he finds shelter behind what looks like heavy machinery.

"_That was __**so**__ cool!_" My father gushes happily, completely ignoring the dire peril his life was in. "How do you do it?"

"Magic." I retort flippantly, and I find myself grin wryly at the truth of that statement.

"Oh come _on!_" Minaka wails in protest, crawling from his cover and pointing his finger at me once more, casually throwing out yet another blast of lightning that I divert with a massive claymore buried blade-first in the ground just in front of me. "Is it some kind of teleportation technology? Ooh, or maybe transmutation? Wait, hold on."

He pauses for a moment, and then glares at me.

"Young man, are you breaking the laws of physics?" He demands, his voice suddenly serious. "So help me, if you make Newton spin in his grave any more than I already have I will ground you for a _month_!"

"I already told you: magic." I repeat. "Steel is my body and fire is my blood."

Half a dozen swords scream through the air, and I am following close behind, running at nigh superhuman speeds with Bakuya and Kanshou in my hands. The cluttered lab in which my father conducted his elaborate and quite possibly gruesome experiments proved difficult to navigate, however,

"Gah! No fair!" The scientist complains, though it seems lightening is not the only ability my father has taken for himself. With alarming alacrity he is moving away from me, effortlessly dodging past the black and white blades in my hands.

We trade blows for a time, and I am astonished at the fortitude my father displays in being able to go toe to toe with me for an extended period of time without any noticeable effort. Even Miya in our training spar had eventually taken on a level of seriousness. Had my father tapped into the unaltered power of the Sekirei? If such a thing were so, then how powerful was he _really_? How many had he drained to gain such fantastic strength.

"Yes, your hatred has made your _strong_! Take your place as my apprentice!" Minaka shouted excitedly, grinning wildly.

"What _are_ you talking about?" I demand, exasperation plain in my voice

My father glares at me, catching a downward chop from Bakuya between his hands just before it could bisect him.

"Didn't your mother ever make you watch the classics?" He demands, affronted. "Honestly, what was that woman thinking?"

"She thought I died in a fire, idiot!" I snapped back at him.

"Oh yeah." He agreed, a thoughtful expression on his face. "How'd that work out for you, by the way?"

For a moment I can only stare at him, and then I whip Kanshou back for a sweep at neck height.

"Eep!" Minaka says, and in a blur of motion he lets go of Bakuya and instead brings both his palms into a powerful upwards thrust that launches me skywards and backwards. After that I have only a moment of warning before something grabs me from below and swings me down earthwards _hard_.

I smash into the ground with a thunderous crash, and it is only through the reinforcement of my body that I'm alive at all. As it is my chest aches with broken bones that are already on the mend, and the ground around me is a ruined spider-web of masonry from the shockwave of my impact.

"My, you _are_ something, aren't you?" My father remarks, and he studies me carefully even as I force myself once more to my feet. "I'm certain that would kill a normal human, but here you are, still standing! How do you do it?"

"Magic." I grunt out through the pain, and the look of consternation that flits across my father's face makes it all worth it.

"Oh, come on! You can tell _me_, Minato-kun!" He tries to assure me. "I won't tell anyone, I _promise_! And then I'll share some of my own powers with you, and we can start kicking butt all across the world! It'll be _awesome_!"

A new smell suddenly grabs my attention, and I know that the time has come. I recognize the pervasive stink of smoke and oil, and begin to suspect

"It would never work, you know." I inform him, and lower my blades as I wait for the inevitable. Soon... "You would have been stopped sooner or later, even if it wasn't here and now."

"Oh, don't be like that!" He complains once more, folding his arms across his chest. "Just imagine it: you'd have a _cape_! Like mine! And if you chose your powers wisely, _it could billow ominously at all times_!"

"Nope."

"Well, I tried." My father says with a shrug. "At least I can tell your mother that at your burial."

The 'smell' in my nostrils suddenly increased in magnitude, blocking out even mundane smells as the Enforcers burst through the walls with explosive power, their mystic codes coming into play with deadly effect.

My father looks around him in alarm before narrowing his gaze on me, an accusing look in them. I give a light shrug and allow my blades to fade out of existence, willing to let the Enforcers finish the job for me. I'd done my part, after all. I'd stopped him from attaining any more power than he already had and distracted him long enough for them to move into position with relative ease. He snorts indignantly, and then moves as if to take out a pesky annoyance and not, as it were, some of the deadliest assassins the Mages Association had at their disposal.

It did not take it long for him to realize that the men and women who were quickly surrounding him were more than mundane, but even then he underestimated them. It was only when he slammed against a barrier of wards that he realized that something was up, and was more than a little surprised when his attempts to lightening blast a few of them into submission resulted in little more than singed clothing and slightly _more_ agitated aggressors.

Even with his vaunted powers, the Clocktower made short work of my father. A few of them were unfortunate enough to get on the wrong side of his superhuman strength and speed, but most of them came out of it relatively unharmed. In the end my father is taken down by a volley of gunfire and magical chains, gasping out in shock at the swift reversal of fates.

I look down at the pooling blood, a satisfied grin slowly dawning on me. It was finally over. The sekirei plan, the desperate battles and the horrific abuse of a dwindling alien species. And all it had taken was the death of my biological father. A small sacrifice, to be sure.

As I surveyed the ruined corpse that was my biological father, I was again struck by the similarities between my adoptive father and I. I couldn't help but wonder at what might have happened had I grown up with the Sahashi family and not Kiritsugu. Would I still have done what was necessary here? Would I have had the strength to do what had be done? Perhaps I should be grateful to the fire that had forever shaped me.

I was snapped out of my thoughts as I smelled another burst of magical power. Furrowing my brow in annoyance, I traced and projected half a dozen blazes around me in warning.

"We had a deal." I remind the remaining Enforcers forcefully.

"That we did." That voice. I remembered it.

It was the voice of the Enforcer I'd brokered this alliance with. I still didn't know her name, or even her face, as I'd only managed to contact her indirectly through methods that were equally safe for both of us. This had initially begun as Matsu breaking into their communications lines so I could leave a message, and then escalated into an exchange of information at various dead drops.

The Enforcers had been _very_ interested in MBI. So much so, in fact, that they'd been willing to suspend their hunt for me in order to pursue their own line of investigation. Which had, unfortunately, led to the discovery of the Sekirei. But I'd made my peace about that.

"Do you intend to renege?" I demand warily, summoning my resolve. If they really were going to betray me, I would need every bit of power I could muster in order to survive. And I _would_ survive: I couldn't allow my flock to suffer on the eve of our victory, after all.

I waited patiently for what felt like eons, before the woman laughed.

"No. I think I could use a person like you."

The grip on my shoulder tightened momentarily, before the magus behind me let go to face his superior. I turned as well, curious to see my unknown benefactor.

"Madam, we have orders to apprehend or kill Emiya Shirou."

The woman that seemed in command shot her subordinate a whither glare, folding her arms as she did.

"Yes? So?" She demanded haughtily. "I don't see him here, do you?"

"What?" The man asked dumbly, shooting me a glance. "He's right there!"

"Don't be stupid." The woman admonished flippantly. "That's Minato Sahashi, an informant of ours."

My world reeled at that, and I stopped myself before I could protest that yes, I was indeed the man they had been dispatched to kill.

"_Obviously_ the Archibald's got their information wrong, or lied to us in order to curry favour." She went on, the unrelenting torrent of distorted truth taking me aback somewhat. "And the Fraga mercenary must have been taken out by these MBI people when she discovered what they were up to."

This was so very _wrong_. I'd thought they would just leave me alone, but why in the world was this crazy woman going out of her way to protect me?

"Really now, I don't see you going very far in our organization if you go around misidentifying people. A man could get into real trouble, thinking he saw someone he didn't." She said meaningfully, her glare increasing with intensity as she said the words.

"I, er, yes, madam." The enforcer eventually said, his voice awkward. He turned to me, his face red with embarrassment. "Apologies, Mr. Sahashi."

"Ah, it's alright." I answer, also awkwardly. I still wan't quite sure what exactly had just happened, after all... "It's an easy mistake to make, I guess."

"Yes. Yes it is." The woman agreed, then nodded pointedly at the dead body of my father. "Prep the body for transportation. _Someone's_ bound to find it worth cutting up, I'm sure."

"Yes ma'am!"

And then the team of enforcers were on their way, securing what they could for the long trip back to England and the Clocktower, leaving me alone with the strange woman.

"Why?" I ask dumbly, still confused.

"Some of us remember Kiritsugu." She explained, a small smirk appearing on her mouth. "He was a good operative, even if he was a bit idealistic."

Idealistic? My father? My confusion went ignored as the woman continued her explanation.

"And our influence here is weak enough in this land as it is. I could use someone with their ear to the ground, or a freelance agent with a history of being good at killing magi."

"But what about the Mage's Association?" I ask. "Won't they want you to come after me?"

The woman laughed, her smirk turning into a sneer. "Yeah, they will. And I'll find you in some backwater little village, and we'll have an intense fight that regrettably ends with your body becoming unsalvageable. They'll be disappointed, and I might even be punished a bit. But you're a little problem in a vast _sea_ of problems, Emiya. I'd much rather have you on a leash than a few of my people in a grave and your life wasted as some lord's guinea pig."

"So you want me to be _your_ dog, then?" I ask, feeling that I was at last on firmer ground. I tried not to let my derision show, but I just couldn't stop all of from seeping through.

The woman chuckled.

"At the end of the day, everyone is someone's dog, Emiya. Better to a live one than a dead one though, isn't it?" The woman smiled. "Keep your girls safe, boy. You're going to need them for the things I have planned for you."

.

.

/NORMAL END

Man, six pages. If the readers of my real stories ever find out what I'm neglecting their stories for, I'm gonna get my ass kicked.


	8. Master Of The Sixth Magic

**Master of the Sixth Magic**

"Ahh, Emiya-san." The porter greeted politely, bowing low. "The Clock Tower is _thrilled_ to greet you once more."

I quirked an eyebrow at the display, smiling wryly. They were obviously trying to butter me up by adopting some of my native eastern mannerisms. It seems they realized just how greatly they'd erred when they'd first branded me with a sealing designation and then set their dogs on me to find out what made me tick. To try and find a way to steal my Reality Marble.

Heh. It had been a _long_ time since I'd had to use _that_. I'd arrived at a _much_ more powerful magic, after all.

The Sixth Magic, in fact.

Which was probably why everyone was falling over themselves to get on my good side. They probably wanted to limit me in my use of it.

"I imagine they are." I answer, not too harshly but just enough to let him know that the events of the past were _not_ forgotten.

The porter smiled nervously, and then glanced over my shoulder at something behind me. Which was understandable, I suppose.

Standing at my back was an entourage of a portion of my family, those I could trust to maintain an air of dignity and gravity. Nine of my lovers, and twelve of my eldest children were here to witness my return and recognition,

"Where's Bathomeloi, by the way?" I ask, as if I didn't already know the answer. My magic was quickly becoming a thing of legend, after all.

"Ahh, she's er, regrettably detained from attending the ceremony." Came the nervous answer. "She's on a hunt, you see."

"Ah." She'd probably left on one the moment she heard I was coming. No sense in chancing taking a chance, after all.

My extended family and I were led through the halls of the Clock Tower, a steady stream of overawed spectators slowly falling in behind us as we moved. All male, I noticed. My, but they _were_ being cautious, weren't they? Had they sent away every female in the tower in anticipation of my arrival? They underestimated my power. No one was safe. Gilgamesh could attest to that.

Eventually we found ourselves in a grand hallway, standing in front of what looked like a council room filled with respected and elder mages of greater and lesser renown. Also all male, I noted.

They each smiled nervously at me as I arrived, a smile that I returned with an almost predatory leer. They knew they had no other recourse before them. In the relatively obscurity of the east, I had swelled with power. I was now a force to be reckoned with.

"Welcome back, Emiya Shirou." One of the assorted Lords, Gerald Bartram Baines if I remembered Rin's extensive briefing correctly, welcomed me warmly. "I assume that you have agreed to our offer?"

I plant myself firmly in an imperious stance that would have done Saber proud if she wasn't back at home helping keep my burgeoning brood in line.

"It is acceptable." I answer, and the gathered lords all seemed to sag in relief as one.

"Then we formally reinstate Emiya Shirou as a proud member of the Mages Association." Gerald announced. "We recognize you as the Master of the Sixth Magic, and grant you the title of Magician. You shall be known as Emiya Shirou the Pornomancer!"

It was a proud day for the Emiya Clan.


	9. Something Shirou Shouldn't Reveal

_Transcribed (sorta) from the forum:_

**Silversun17**:... blah blah *OMAKE* blah blah Someone should totally try to beat me at my own game. Gogo power meme-ranger! *flies off into the sunset to save the world from singing poptart cats IN SPACE*

**Syroc**: Challenge accepted!

**Why Shirou Should NEVER Reveal That Saber Calls Him Her 'Sheath'**

"So how exactly is it that you heal so fast, Shirou?" Homura asked one day out of the blue.

"Oh, I just have a mystical artifact of epic power stored inside of me." I answer flippantly, as if it was something that everyone went through. "It's called Avalon, and it's the sheath of Excalibur."

"Really?" Homura said, surprised. "Not some kind of forbidden magic?"

"Nope. Just a sheath. A mystic, ancient sheath made by fairies from hopes and dreams." I confirm.

"Huh. That's kind of disappointingly simple." The fire-user said, apparently disappointed. "I was expecting something a bit more exotic."

"Yes, well, I used to get teased about often enough by my lovers. Saber used to call me her sheath," At this Matsu, with whom I had long since made up with after our previous disagreement, perked up with a perverted leer. "Rin used to get in on it too."

"Really?" Matsu asked eagerly and somehow, despite being indoors, light managed to glare off her glasses ominously. "How so?"

I blush slightly as I recalled some of the previous instances that Rin had teased me.

"I'd really rather not talk about it." I stammer out quickly.

"Ufufufu..." Matsu began to chuckle, her lecherous laugh sending chills down my spine. "Maybe there really was a reason you reacted so strongly with Homura after all, Shirou-tan?"

"What?" Homura and I say at the same time, before the meaning of what she said sank in. "We're not like that!"

"Not like what?" Tsukiumi asked, striding proudly into the room.

"Ah, Shirou-tan used to be a 'sheath' to his human girlfriends!" Matsu answered before I could stop her.

"W, what?" The blonde sekirei said, her face instantly turning a violent shade of pink. "H, husband! Why did you not inform me of this?" She demanded angrily, glaring hard at me.

"It's not-" But I was cut off as Tsukiumi drew her own conclusions without even waiting to hear me out.

"If you like such things, then I'm sure we could make some arrangements..." And then her eyes flickered over to Homura, and her blush further increased, if such a thing were possible. "Or perhaps my rival could help out."

Homura began sputtering out excuses and protestations frantically at this suggestion, suddenly recoiling from me like I was diseased. And all the while Matsu was giggling pervertedly, her leer growing dirtier with every passing second.

I, on the other hand, could only gape in open mortification. This was not happening. It _could not be happening_! Not again!

"Help with what?" A curious voice, Musubi I recognized after a moment, asked.

Argh! No! What is it with this place? Is my intense discomfort somehow summoning my flock to my side? Quick! Think soothing thoughts! Murdering Gilgamesh! Strangling Shinji! Tossing Kotomine into a meat-grinder!

"Ahh, we were just trying to find a way to satisfy some of Shirou's more exotic tastes." Matsu clarified between giggles.

Gah! Nooo~

"Ah!" Musubi exclaimed eagerly. "Musubi wants to help!"

I just _knew_ that if this continued then the rest of my flock would eventually arrive. I don't think I could go through all this without my cheeks bursting into flame my intense blushing. Instead, I did the only thing I could think of. It was the course of action that had saved more than once from Rin's more adventurous sexual escapades.

I ran away screaming, hoping that my anguished wails would distract them from what they'd just been talking about.


	10. Unfortunate Implications

Callback humour! Isn't it the greatest?

**Unfortunate Implications**

'_Time for a patch! It's been brought to our attention that there's a total game-breaker in the North, so we decided that to further the enjoyment of the sekirei plan we need to nerf that! Anyone who captures and brings Emiya Shirou, AKA 'the Ashikabi with swords', and turns him in to the nearest MBI facility or patrol will receive a special dispensation (it'll be good!) once we begin the third phase :) He's a dangerous Ashikabi, so it'll be best to attack as a group!'_

I wasn't sure if Minaka was aware that he had also sent me the message or if it was simply a careless mistake. But the moment I read it (and I thank Matsu for her many hours spent forcing the knowledge of how to operate the full features of my phone without having to ask for help into my head.) I _knew_ that horrible things were about to happen.

It had only been a day since the attack from the Fraga woman and my second explanation of magic. This time, after having seen me use my unique repertoire of skills, they were more inclined to believe my explanation. After all, my abilities were just way too varied and outlandish to be anything other than magic.

And now _this_ happened.

It only took a few moments to access the Ashikabi forums to see that everyone was already abuzz with chatter and speculation on just what 'special dispensation' Minaka was offering to bring me in. (I was glad to see that Himura was _still_ warning people against coming after me, but his voice of reason was quickly being drowned out by a chorus of greed.) It wouldn't be long before the North was overrun by invading Ashikabi and their Sekirei. It was likely that even the other cardinal points would get involved, as well.

My first impulse was to flee, or perhaps prepare a battleground. But there would simply be too many for that: there was simply too much ground to be covered, and I could not be wholly certain of the array of powers that would be aligned against me. Certainly I could count on _some_ allies: Yukari and Shiina, for example, would no doubt stand with me. Seo and the lightning twins seemed reasonable to assume as well. That left… maybe around seventy Sekirei.

That was a little too many even for my comfort. And that wasn't even counting the MBI forces that would no doubt be arrayed against me if the company found out that I was holed up somewhere. So, instead of wasting my time trying to set up a more defensible position I had instead decided to put the fear of Emiya Shirou into my fellow Ashikabis directly.

A group would be congregating soon in the shopping district, and at which point they would set off to begin 'feeling out' the North. (It had been laughably easy to find out their supposedly 'secret' plans. One would think they would know they were talking on a public forum and not, say, a soundproof room. The idiots deserved every bit of the righteous beatdown that I was about to drop on them.) My flock and I would make sure they were dispersed long before they could begin, crushing the fledgling assault in its infancy.

The attack would have to be brutally efficient in its execution: there could be no doubt in _any_ of their minds that provoking me was a terminally bad idea. This time there would be more than the panicked urgings of a single student to deter others: this time there would be a great many people who now lived in fear of the day I took it into my head to turn my blades against them once more.

Most of my flock would be with me to ensure that this was done right: the only ones left behind had been Matsu and Kuu, for obvious reason.

And now we waited...

* Some Time Later!*

Kanshou and Bakuya blurred in deadly unison in my hands, quickly tearing through the defences of my opponent. Her single katana had no chance against of overwhelming me: she had never had to fight against someone who outclassed her on a level that surpassed mortal means. Her superhuman speed and strength weren't even particularly impressive in comparison to my own enhanced abilities.

I slapped her blade away with an almost errant flick of Bakuya and raised Kanshou up to deal a blow that would end this fight once and for all.

"Sayaka-san!" Someone shouted in panic from my side, and I had only a moment's notice to turn and take in the arrival of a new opponent before I realized that I would not be able to block her opening strike in time.

My new attacker had thrown what looked like a bladed ring at me. Despite myself, I was impressed: the attack was fatal one, as it had clearly been aimed at my head.

"My body is made out of swords!" I intone quickly, and winced as the painful feeling of an infinite amount of blades forming below my skin filled my being.

The ring struck my face, glancing off my cheekbone and carving off a section of skin before meeting the blades beneath it.

My attacker's eyes went wide with surprise as she took in the sight that was in front of her. I had no doubt that it was frightening: after all, it wasn't every day that you came across someone who could turn himself into a bladed monstrosity at a moment's notice.

"T-t-t-t" She pointed wildly at me, stuttering in her obvious terror. "_Terminator!_"

Her terrified cry seemed to garner some attention, as soon enough others took in the sight of my mangled face and quickly echoed the Sekirei's horrified outburst.

Well, not _everyone_ echoed it.

"Ah!" I heard Musubi shout out happily. "Shirou-san really _is_ a robot!"

"I knew it."

"_I am not a robot_!" I protested. "It's magic!"

"Ah! Shirou-san is a _magic_ robot!"

Things had been going so _well_, too.

Oh well. I might as well play it up for all it was worth. And at least I wouldn't have to do much acting.

I glare balefully at my opponent, hoping that the spreading darkness behind me would somehow cause my eyes to start glowing ominously. Red by preference, but I was sure that simply seeing the blood-stained phalanx of blades beneath my skin would be more than enough to make anyone flinch.

"You will be terminated." I say half-heartedly, deliberately keeping my voice devoid of emotion and inflection.

It depressed me how quickly they fled after that. Were people really _that_ eager to believe in murderous robots from the future?


	11. Mystic i

_Transcribed (sorta) from the forums:_

_*A few weeks before!*_

**Everyone:** Mystic Washing Machine OMAKE goooo~! *A thousand and ten different Omakes are made*

**Grimgor Ironhide**: This has gotten old. Stop this madness. Let us all begin kicking ass as one, and start new stories.

**Everyone: **Yeah! Different OMAKE goooo~! *More Omakes are made*

_*Back in the present!*_

**Syroc:** Hey guys, look what I made!

*Cricket Chirp*

**Mystic i**

It had been almost a month since the Fraga woman had been defeated. A month after my explanation of magic and, at various stages, just what it all entailed.

"At last! It's complete!"

'It' was of course my latest source of pride. 'It' was a masterpiece of applied runecraft. 'It' would finally be able to get that damnable stain out of my favourite shirt. (The 'stain' was not so much a physical one as a spiritual one. Ever since Kazehana had, ahem, 'manhandled' me in it I had been quite unable to ever wear it without feeling dirty. It was the kind of stain that nothing short of magic, or fire, could purge.)

"What's complete, Shirou-tan?" Matsu asked, turning away from her tablet-thingee to look at my latest creation.

After Miya had realized the magnitude of just what I had been doing in her little shed she had insisted that whatever magical research I was conducting would _have_ to be done where she could keep a close eye on it. After all, she wasn't about to let me just do _anything_. (She pointedly ignored that she didn't know the slightest thing about magic. I was of the belief that she just didn't want to rebuild the shed only for it to subsequently be used as a love nest whenever a member of my flock was feeling frisky.) Matsu, eager to please, had been quick to offer her room as a place for my experimentation. (She was rather insistent that what I was doing wasn't 'research', but rather 'experimentation'. I did not want to argue the point.) Without much option for anything else, I had accepted her offer.

The two of us were there now, and though Matsu had long since given up trying to distract me from my work she did seem to enjoy my simple proximity.

"My Mystic Washing Machine!" I eagerly enthused, pointing at the appliance.

It was an unassuming thing, as most of the runecraft I had so painstakingly recreated I'd made sure to do internally. Outwardly, there was nothing out of the ordinary about it. Besides the fact that it didn't need power or water to function, anyways. It was thoroughly mundane.

But _inside_ was a bewilderingly complex network of runes that would, with a bit of my od, set in motion a chain of events that would result in wondrously clean sheets. I suppose my next project would have to be a Mystic Dryer.

Matsu gave the thing a scrutinizing look, a small frown of puzzlement appearing on her lips.

"What does it do?" She eventually asked.

I shoot her a look of disbelief as soon as I hear the words.

"'What does it do?'" I repeat slowly, shaking my head in amazement at the simple question. "It's a washing machine! It cleans clothes!"

"Oh." The hacker looked disappointed by this revelation. "I was kind of expecting something more flashy. You've been working on that for such a long time, after all."

I bristle with indignation at that.

"It doesn't need power to work!" I explain haughtily, annoyed that my greatest (and, so far, only) creation was being brushed aside so lightly.

"So?" Matsu sounded thoroughly unimpressed by my explanation.

I fold my arms across my chest, frowning deeply.

"I'd like to see you do better." I challenge her, certain that she would back down quickly.

Instead she gave me an appraising look before handing me the tablet in her hands. Not quite certain where she was going with all this I merely waited as she began mumbling to herself.

I did not have to wait long before I realized just _why_ she was so unimpressed with my work.

"Awaken, iBot." She commanded the tablet, and I can only stare in mute wonder as a pair of stylized eyes and a mouth flash into life on the screen while along its frame runes flare into life. The eyes were like those out of a cartoon, unrealistic but expressive.

"_Good afternoon, mistress and master_." The tablet, iBot, greets us. It has a reedy, robotic voice. "_What is your command?_"

"Can you get me a glass of water from downstairs?" Matsu asks the thing in my hands, carefully watching the look of stark amazement on my face.

"_Of course, mistress."_ The thing affirms, and then I am forced to drop it as a small pair of legs and arms seem to fold out of the frame.

It lands on the ground with a quiet clatter of plastic before it begins waddling away on its too-small legs for its awkward body.

I stare at it as it leaves to do Matsu's bedding, even going as far as to follow it out into the hall so I could watch it tumble down the stairs only to pick itself back up and continue on its task.

Soon there is nothing else for me to do but return to Matsu's room, thoroughly bewildered.

"What was _that_?"

"Oh, just something I made." Matsu claimed, giving an errant wave. "I found some of your notes and thought it might be fun to experiment a bit. I got done with the iBot not too long ago."

"My notes...?"

"It doesn't need power either, y'know." The hacker boasted proudly. "And I think I've found a way to make it self-aware."

"_Mistress! Save me!"_ The thing cried out from the floor below. "_I have been kidnapped by a smaller mistress!_"

"Robo-kun!" We both hear Kuu-chan cry out happily in response.

Matsu blanches slightly as she realizes that she had just sent a terrifying amalgam of magic and technology out into the open where anyone could find it, and then she rushes out to liberate her little monstrosity from the youngest member of my flock.

When she is gone, I'm left to stare hard at my latest creation. My boring, non-sentient, inanimate creation.

"Stupid Mystic Washing Machine." I grumble, giving the machine a swift kick.


	12. HoS: The Emiya School of Hard Knocks

The power of random is so strong in this collection that it can reach across stories! **Behold!**

**Hill Of Swords: The Emiya School of Hard Knocks**

"Ahh, sensei! It's too hard! Can't I use my wand for this?" One of the students wailed in protest, and as one the rest of the class turns on the speaker in mute horror. That was all the warning to be had before everything went to hell.

_Whack! Crack! Smash!_

"You fool!" Their teacher roars, bulldozing a path through the tidy rows of desks that resulted in the unfortunate occupants being thrown bodily aside. That was not where the loud smacking noise came from, though. No, _that_ came from the menacing shinai that their teacher was brandishing like an indiscriminate angel of vengeance. "_Real_ men do not _need_ silly things like wands and staffs to cast their magic! _Real_ men use nothing but their own will!"

"But I'm a _girl_!"

_Swish! Crash!_

"Kyaa!" The student cried out, cringing away from any further blows.

"There are no genders on the battlefield! Fun-bits are for after fighting!" Their teacher shouted, flailing the deadly training weapon wildly. "Now you will learn to use magic without a wand, or you will _leave_ this school at once!"

'This school' was, in fact, the legendarily prestigious and illustrious Emiya Shirou Academy of War, where noble families with a particular interest in beating up their neighbors sent their children to have weakness beaten out of them by some of the strongest (and most sadistic) warriors in the land and learn how to kick ass like the legendary King of Swords himself.

"Yes Taiga-sensei!" The by-now thoroughly terrified student agreed.

'Taiga' was of course _not _the man's real name. No, it was instead at once his title and his job.

As the legendary swordsman had said upon the founding of the academy: 'there's _always_ gotta be someone like Taiga lurking around in places like this'. And so it was that the Taiga became one of the most feared and respected position in the academy, and in much of the world.

Respected because there wasn't a teacher in the world that could whip their students into line with as much ease as the Taiga, nor was there anyone who could make their students take their lessons with as much solemnity or gravity. Nobody possessed as much fierce determination to not disappoint their teacher as a student of the Taiga.

Feared because they had the authority to beat anyone that impinged upon the honour of the school with a wooden training sword and a _very_ loose understanding of what actually impinged upon the honour of the school. Nothing inspired dread like someone who was prepared to beat you into submission with a stick at the drop of a hat.

It was uncertain if this had originally been what Emiya Shirou had originally intended, but nobody could argue with results.

There was a brief chime of a bell in the corner of the room, signaling the end of class. A collective sigh of relief emerged from the class, who were even now trying to put everything back in order.

"Ahh!" The Taiga shouted, surprise written plainly on his big, honest face. "Is it midday already?" There was no avoiding put an exclamation point at the end of every sentence when the person speaking never drops their voice below 'deafening shout'. "Class! Salute our glorious founder and then report at _once_ to the blademaster for your next lesson!"

The class wasted no time in turning to a portrait of Emiya Shirou, wearing one of the most terrifying smiles the students had ever seen. If there was one thing the students of the school were grateful for it was that Emiya Shirou had passed away long ago and was no longer around to give that frightening smile ever again. Unless someone summoned him by accident. (It was for this reason that summoning was _not_ looked forward to by the students of the academy. Each one bore the distinct and terrifying possibility that the fluke that had brought the King of Swords to their world would repeat itself.)

"Oh, Emiya Shirou!" The Taiga wailed, and there was actually great big manly tears streaking down his face as he solemnly saluted the picture. "Your deeds continue to inspire and guide us! We thank you for the wisdom you bestow upon us every day!"

The students tried _very_ hard not to look at their teacher, each and every one of them very uncomfortable with the image of someone their so feared in such an overt display of emotion. Or insanity. It was very hard to be sure. Instead, they gave a quick cursory salute before moving along to their next class.

*_With the blademaster!*_

The blademaster of the Emiya Shirou Academy of War was a tall but reedy creature, and reminded her students of nothing so much as a heron that was just _waiting_ for a fish to pass by. Her short, spiky grey hair, scrupulously dyed and maintained in imitation of the school's founder, did nothing to deter this image. A blue cloak fastened at her waist, denoting her station as the school's master of arms, swished quietly with every movement she made, and was quite often the only thing people heard before they came face to face with her.

She stalked past the many dueling opponents around him with a careless air, pausing occasionally to watch a particularly skilled student in action before moving on. She would toss out snippets of advice as he went, which was taken as holy writ by her students. Those that didn't quite often found themselves the focus of her ire, which was something to be avoided at all costs.

"Ow!" Someone gasped at a particularly hard blow. "Why'd you hit me so hard?"

"_Shut up!_" The offended student's opponent hissed out desperately.

But it was no use.

The blademaster was there in a blur of blue and grey, effortlessly disarming the two students and then striking them with deadly skill. They both doubled over in pain before their furious instructor, who looked like the only thing she was missing from her furious figure was infernal flames swirling behind her.

"No words!" The blademaster barked out harshly at the two. "You will not speak to your opponent! You will focus wholly on destroying them! To speak in battle is a terrible sin, and all sinners will be _punished_ in this school!"

"Y, yes blademaster!" The two groaned from their prone positions. "We're sorry, blademaster!"

The woman glare balefully at them for a moment before folding her arms in front of her.

"The two of you will spar against me until I release you from this lesson." She ground out, apparently having found their apologies lacking.

The two unfortunate students groaned in unison as the dread of what was to come sank in.

*_Later that day!_*

A bruised, weary and relieved student of the academy moved sedately through the streets of Tristrain, intent on nothing more than crawling into his bed and falling asleep until eternity arrived. Or his alarm went off. Whichever came first, he supposed.

"Whoa, look at that one!" Someone jeered. "He looks like he fell off the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down!"

"Hey, shut up!" His companion urged, nervously looking at the beleaguered student. "He's got an Emiya School uniform!"

"Emiya School?" The sneering man said derisively. "A bunch of pansies, the lot of them!"

The student froze where he stood, and with a look of fear in his eyes he scanned his surroundings for something that he was certain should be there. He was disappointed to find that it wasn't, however. He was alone.

And someone had just called him a pansy.

After a whole day of trying desperately to avoid the wrath of the Taiga, after fighting for hours against his fellow students and occasionally a psychotic swordswoman masquerading as a teacher, the idea of someone calling him weak seemed to flip a switch inside of him that he never knew even existed.

Without warning the student blurred into motion, and proceeded to spread the particular brand of education that was the specialty of the Emiya Shirou Academy of War.

It was only later when the student realized that he had beaten an armed soldier of Tristain into submission that the student realized something.

"I am made of awesome." The student proclaimed, his faith in the Emiya School of Hard Knocks restored in that searing moment of revelation.

*_With Shirou and Saber!*_

"You founded a school?" The blonde swordswoman said in surprise.

"Well, if you define 'school' pretty loosely." Shirou confirmed with a shrug. "I started it as a joke, but people just kept on coming."

"Wait, you actually _taught_ there?" Surprise was replaced by amazement.

"Not so much 'taught' as 'beat the stupid out of people'." Shirou admitted. "It's the only way I know, after all."

Saber nodded sagely at this.

"It's the best way to learn."

"That's what _I_ said." Shirou agreed, sniffing indignantly. "Nobody ever believes it, though."

"Do you think it's still there?" Saber asked.

"Don't be silly." Shirou admonished lightly, and held his lover close to him. "Nobody would be stupid enough to keep it up."


	13. Karasuba's Kink

_Transcribed (sorta) from the forums:_

**Syroc: **My kung-fu is strong! My guitar solo is awesome! My omake is funny! I can now relax for the weekend!

**Bloody Hero**: I just had a funny idea. *Shares with the rest of the forum*

**Syroc:** ... Why do you hate my weekends? _How dare you inspire me?_

**Karasuba's Kink**

Shirou did his best not to look. He really did. He didn't want to know.

But it was so very _hard_.

After all, it wasn't every day that one of the most feared people in Shin Tokyo could be seen skulking around in the bushes trying desperately _not_ to be seen.

And failing.

Badly.

_Rustle, rustle._

Maybe it was the impractical black kimono that kept getting snagged on branches, or maybe it was the way everyone on the opposite side of the street were staring at the terrifying woman as she cowered behind whatever obstructions there was to be found. Maybe it was a thousand other clues of varying subtlety that pointed her out to him. Whatever the reason, it was fairly easy for him to spot the woman as she hid awkwardly in a bush, watching him carefully.

He'd been noticing the woman all day, turning up in the least expected of places.

Skulking inside a mailbox, and poking her head outside the slot whenever she thought he wasn't looking. (He didn't even want to contemplate how she'd gotten in there. He really didn't)

Hanging upside down from a tree. (Shirou didn't even know _how_ the woman had managed to pop back into the foliage with such alacrity the moment he'd turned to look at her.)

Watching him carefully from behind a newspaper with holes cut out in it. (He'd been slightly insulted that she'd thought he wouldn't notice her.)

Popping her head out from under a manhole cover on the street. (A honking truck had alerted him to that particular ruse.)

He'd even spotted her hastily grapping a pair of children and using them as little human shields. (He noted that she seemed comfortable with crying, terrified children.)

It was beginning to get ridiculous.

He didn't know what the woman had in mind, but it was starting to get creepy the way she kept turning up. He was only grateful that he was at last back at Izumo House, and was confident that he was at last safe from her.

With a sigh, he strode into the kitchen with the intent on getting a glass of milk. He'd have to start dinner soon as well if he wanted to avoid the other residents getting restless in their hunger and getting ideas. That was always to be avoided. (He found it mildly amusing that most of the women in his life were at their most dangerous whenever they hadn't been fed.)

With a look of happy contemplation over what exactly he would make for dinner that evening he opened the fridge.

And stared in unbelieving silence, unable to fully comprehend just what he was seeing.

And then...

"What the hell are you doing in my fridge?"He shouted.

There Karasuba was, hunched up close and surrounded by various food stuffs and wearing a surprised look. It lasted only a moment before her face smoothed out into her familiar look of amused malevolence.

She emerged from the fridge (and in doing so caused most of its contents to spill out) as if it was the most natural thing in the world. The air of nonchalance was so powerful that for just a moment Shirou felt strange for shouting at her, but only until he remembered what she had done.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." She answered coolly, stealing a leaf from Miya's book.

And without stopping to hear his bewildered, angry response she swiftly exited Izumo House.

Not long afterwards Shirou spotted her yet again, this time peeking through a window. With a weary sigh, he resolved himself to just give up and try even harder to not notice the not-too-subtle way she was stalking him.

_*Later with the Disciplinary Squad!*_

"I don't know why you keep stalking him." Benitsubasa grumbled, glaring at the elder swordswoman. "He's not _that_ impressive."

The grey-haired Sekirei merely continued examining the steak-knife in her hands, testing its edges carefully so as not to cut herself on its supernaturally honed edge.

"He's very... interesting." She finally settled on, and then held the knife close to her breast and sighed. "And dangerous. You know he tried to kill me? Twice?"

She knew that neither attempt had been very serious, and had come about merely out of annoyance or as a warning. But just the _idea_ that somewhere out there was someone who wouldn't hesitate to take a fork and try to murder her with it was enough to set her heart aflutter.

It should be noted at this point that Karasuba was not like other people.

Heihane quirked her head at this, a mischievous grin slowly dawning on her lips.

"Sounds like _someone_ has a crush!" She teased.

Which turned out to be a bad idea, because a moment later the knife slashed through the air, barely missing the pale woman.

"I do _not_ have a crush!" Karasuba refuted coldly. "I am merely monitoring a dangerous combatant that has exhibited unusual qualities in the past!"

Heihane nodded quickly, eager to avoid her superior's wrath.

"Of course!" She agreed hastily. "You don't have a crush! Nope! Not you!"

Karasuba glared at the woman for a while before she moved to retrieve the knife she had so casually thrown moments before and resumed her intense scrutiny.

Eventually she stood back up, grinning manically as she clutched the knife tightly.

"I'm going out again." She announced. "I need to observe him some more."


	14. Boromir Would Be Rolling In His Boat

_Transcribed (sorta) from the forums_

**Grimgor Ironhide:** Entertain me, peons! Write my story for me!

_*Syroc stumbles drunkenly into forum after long period of inactivity and finds Grim's post*_

**Syroc:** Totes stealing that idea.

_*Yoink!*_

* * *

**Boromir Would Be Rolling In His Boat**

It was Saturday once again, which meant that it was time for Shirou's flock to vie once more for the coveted spot at his side at the dinner table and in his bed. Once more the various shop-owners waited in quiet dread for the amply-endowed chaos that would soon arrive.

Musubi didn't know what to think when a door suddenly appeared out of nowhere (with no walls around it, either) and opened, allowing a huge creature wielding an even bigger axe to stride through as if crossing from one existence to another was no more out of the ordinary than a walk in the park. The door closed behind it without a sound and then popped right back out of existence, leaving only the strange newcomer.

It was green.

Worryingly green. A sort of pale green that was more often associated with bread that had been forgotten in the cupboard for too long and was now trying desperately to grow some new friends from the interesting spores it had found.

Tusks were also present. Great big tusks that would have been the envy of any vampire. (Except the fearsome sabretooth vampire, of course.)

But more than those two things was The Axe. It was quite possibly the largest specimen of its kind that Musubi had ever seen. It was massive. It was so large, in fact, that if it had been a sword then everyone would have expected that its wielder was overcompensating for something. In this case they would be right, because the 'something' in question was intellect. And the way it was being compensated was less in the department of 'large weaponry' and more in the 'sheer wanton destruction'. The double-edged sword may do more damage on the backswing, but the double-edged great axe killed more per swathe.

She stared at it for a long moment, before the thing in front of her fired the synapses in her brain and caused her to remember where she had seen something like this before.

"Uruk-hai!" She said with a gasp, pointing an accusatory finger. And while technically accurate she had no idea just howwrong the statement was. It was mixing canon between two different universes, for one thing. (The author is well aware of the silliness in that sentence.)

The creature seemed to notice her for the first time, and studied her for a brief moment before seeming to reach some kind of consensus.

"Bouncy Lady." He dubbed her, and then dismissed her as he continued surveying his surroundings.

"I won't let you kidnap Miniature-Orlando Bloom!" she cried out. And then all thought of groceries was forgotten as she leaped to engage the half-orc.

The creature barely had time to register what she'd said before it found itself on the receiving end of a fist that could smash through solid stone and make steel more than a little envious. The half-orc soared through the air at the blow, a look more of surprise than pain on its face as it smashed into a concrete wall and disappeared into cloud of debris and dust and all the other things that fly through the air when buildings are smashed through by unfortunate victims of a high-powered punch.

Musubi watched the obscuring cloud for signs that her unwitting opponent would recover, and a moment later she was not disappointed as the half-orc emerged from the ruined building with a bemused look on his face.

"Bouncy Lady hit Thog." The newly introduced Thog complained, though he didn't sound too put out by this. Which he wasn't. It was when they started acting all weird that he got worried. Girls had cooties, after all. And Nale had warned him of the dangers of cooties.

"You won't take the hobbits!" Musubi shouted, and leaped to dish out yet another frighteningly powerful punch.

But this time she was instead slapped away from the flat of that massive axe and treated to her own destructive flight, though hers was quickly ended by the pavement. This didn't stop her from carving out a shallow trench in street, as was appropriate by the laws of anime physics. She slashed a deep furrow through the street before finally coming to a halt just before she hit the sidewalk on the other side.

A moment later her head popped out of the ruined street, an excited grin on her face.

"A powerful opponent!" She chirped happily, completely unfazed by the fact that she had been batted like a fly and then used to as a very ineffective plow.

Thog was just beginning to emerge from the ruined building the energetic Sekirei had first punched him through just as she said this, and blinked in surprise.

"Bouncy Lady not dead?" He asked, and then gave a speculating look at his weapon. "Thog should put spikes on sides." A sudden thought seemed to occur to him. "And then Thog could use them to-"

_-Smash!-_

While he had been caught up in his moment of sudden inspiration, Musubi had snuck up on him (while shouting out a battle-cry) and delivered another of her normally bone-crushing blows. Yet again, Thog the Barbarian was punched through a building and left to struggle out of the rubble.

It was fortunate (for Shin-Tokyo at large, anyways) that the building Musubi had launched the half-orc through turned out to be the pet-store that she and the rest of the then-flock had stopped by on their way to meet Tsukiumi, and that the barbarian's rough entrance had damaged no more than the locks that kept the now very excited occupants inside.

There was a moment of silence as everyone waited for the dust to clear, and then...

"Puppies!" Both Thog and Musubi cried out happily at once, and a chorus of yips answered them.

All thoughts of fighting left the pair as they spent the day playing, cuddling and loving a small pack of dogs while the technical owners looked on with a terrified look on their faces.

And that was the story of how an epic battle of stupidly powerful brawlers was avoided through the awesome power of adorable puppies.


	15. The Right Man For The Job

**The Right Man For The Job**

Takami Sahashi could not, under any circumstances, be said to have been happy when she suddenly and violently kicked in the door to Minaka's office with enough force to wrench it from its hinges and send it flying. The eccentric owner of MBI did not take heed to this as he suddenly looked up from his work and beamed a happy grin at her.

"Ahh, Takami!" He cried out, throwing away the tool (which happened to be a soldering gun) in his hand with careless abandon. "I was just about to call you! Guess what I'm-"

"Why the hell did I receive an invoice saying we've hired David Attenborough and a BBC film team?" Takami interrupted harshly, and her voice carried with it the cool calm that occurs just before epic natural catastrophes strike.

"That's what I was about to tell you!" Minaka answered with some excitement. "I've hired them to make a documentary about the Sekirei! I figured that once we got done with all this Sekirei Plan nonsense that it'd help integrate the Sekirei into normal society if everyone knew everything there was to know about them!"

"'Sekirei Plan nonsense'?" Takami repeated slowly, an eyebrow twitching. "This was your idea!"

"Oh yeah." Minaka said, a look of slow recollection dawning on his face. "How's it going, by the way?"

The white-haired geneticist decided to shelve the savage beating she was planning on giving the father of her children until he had answered her initial question.

"Why the hell are you making a documentary with David Attenborough?" She demanded angrily.

Minaka gave her an affronted look, clearly shocked by her question.

"Well, who else would I get? Steve Irwin? No, wait, he's dead." A thoughtful expression passed across his face. "For now, anyways. I wonder if-"

"_Focus_!" Takami hissed.

"Oh yeah. Well, there's just nobody else. I mean, who can't trust that calm, soothing old-man voice? The choice was clear, Takami."

"No, that wasn't what I-" Takami stopped herself, then gave out a thunderous sigh. "Y'know what? I don't care anymore. Just promise me you won't do anything too stupid."

"Will do, Takami-Cha- hey, where'd my soldering gun go? I had it here just a moment ago, I'm sure..."

* * *

_While the Sekirei is indeed a most dangerous creature, and it is quite spectacular to witness the full array of their abilities, one can only truly appreciate its true majesty when in repose. Like humans, the Sekirei quite often enjoy simply lounging and entertaining themselves with whichever means are available to them. Now, let us observe..._

Uzume shifted into a slightly more comfortable position in her chair, leaning back further into her support. She was currently relaxing in the living room of Izumo House, enjoying the quiet of the midday as Shirou did his whole repairman stuff and his flock busied themselves with whatever chores Miya ordered them to do.

She flipped a page of the manga she had tactically acquired (read: stole) from the hoard that Yukari had brought with her to Izumo House before she had left to do whatever it was crazy girls did when they were on a crusade to save their elder brothers from imaginary threats.

A wistful sigh escaped her. She really missed the madness that girl had brought into the house. Kazehana, while a friend, just couldn't compare with the sheer silliness that Yukari had brought into their lives on a daily-

**Rrrrrrrrr~**

She blinked at the sound, her thoughts interrupted. Curious, she lowered her book and examined the room around her.

A small robot with a camera mounted on it was rolling up to her on its tiny wheels. The moment it became obvious that her attention was on it the thing immediately stopped, the lens twisting minutely as it refocused on her.

She studied the thing for a few moments, wondering where it had come from. Warily, as if it might suddenly sprout wings or something, she raised the manga once more as if reading it.

**Whiirrrrr~**

The robot advanced once more, the camera on top wobbling from side to side as it moved.

She lowered the manga once again, and the small robot ceased its movements just as before.

With a suspicious frown, Uzume turned her head towards the stairway and Matsu's room.

"Hey Matsu!" She called out. "Is this one of yours?"

"Is what one of mine?" Came the answer along with the sound of a door opening.

**Whiiirrrrrr~**

Uzume looked back down and saw that the small robot was now clearly fleeing, though it could only move so fast. She watched it roll through the open doorway and into the yard. A moment later a young man leaped out from a bush that Uzume was prepared to swear hadn't been there yesterday and collected the thing, quickly jumping back into the mysterious new bush.

A moment later the bush shuffled away, disappearing behind a wall.

For a long time Uzume simply stared at where the bush had vanished. And then she blinked, and shrugged.

Clearly, that didn't just happen. She was just missing the weirdness of Yukari.

Yeah. That had to be it.

"Nevermind." She shouted back up to Matsu, and busied herself once again with her pilfered manga.

* * *

_Most Sekrei are sociable creatures, and it is not unknown for several to congregate together to form a flock. Such flocks are most commonly held together by a strong alpha male. In such cases, the male most commonly behaves much like a male lion at the head of his pride, and allows his females to do the hunting._

_It is quite common for the females to fight with each other over the alpha male's attention in such cases, though it is rare for such occasions to escalate beyond playful tussles..._

"Outta my way, panty-flasher-chan!"

Tsukiumi was blown to the side by a powerful blast of wind as Kazehana bolted past, snatching the item that she had been about to gather. With a feral growl the water-user recovered her balance

"How dare you?" She cried out furiously, and a moment later a pillar of water shot towards the now cackling woman ahead of her. It struck her fully on the back, which sent her stumbling forward into a shelf of various canned goods with an undignified squawk of surprise. She was quickly buried under a mountain of cans and left in a groaning heap.

Her satisfaction was short-lived, however, as Musubi swished past from out of nowhere and claimed the last item on her list.

"Musubi will win for sure this week!" She boasted happily as she loped away.

Tsukiumi gave out a howl of anguish at this before taking off after her, quickly snatching the item she had been about to swipe before Kazehana had come and ruined everything!

She need not have hurried over much, however, as a moment later a wall of ice blocked her path.

"Ahhh!" She heard Musubi cry out in surprise. "Akitsu-san, where did you-eek!"

"I will win this week." The ice-woman calmly stated, stealing Musubi's groceries away from her frozen hands.

"N, n, nuuu~" The shrine maiden wailed, though she couldn't quite manage it since she was almost wholly encased in ice.

None of them took any notice of the old man with an amused grin watching the whole affair and casually narrating into a microphone at the other end of the store...

* * *

_Of course, the Izumo House flock is not without its enemies._

_There are _**_other _**_Sekirei waiting in the galleries, just waiting for a moment to strike. Here we have the alpha Sekirei from a rival flock, the Disciplinary Squad flock in fact, stalking the alpha male of Izumo House. But it is not violence on her mind. No, this is Sekirei is in fact _**_courting _**_the male, perhaps hoping to lure him away from his own flock to join hers..._

Shirou suppressed the urge to sigh deeply, focusing wholly on the crowd in front of him.

He really, really didn't want to know.

First there had been Karasuba. That had been worrying enough all on its own. But spotting her occasionally out of the corner of his eye was now one of the things he carefully ignored every day as he went about his work as a handyman.

To his left, lurking inside an empty garbage can with the lid carefully balanced on top of her head, was Karasuba. He had little doubt that in a moment she would lower herself back into her horrible hiding spot and then mysteriously reappear in a new, equally bad hiding place.

Shirou was certain that if the Black Serkirei put half as much effort into selecting hiding places as she did stealthily getting to them she would be completely invisible to him. Which, on second thought, might not be a good thing.

But this was not what was worrying him.

The source of his unease was behind him, not too far away but far enough to be just outside of hearing. It an old man that was following him and calmly talking to himself. This in itself was creepy all on its own, but behind him there looked to be a tv-team bustling industriously. They had been following him for the past hour, and seemed to be taking care to record both he and Karasuba.

He knew they were harmless. He couldn't detect even a trace of magic about them. They were thoroughly mundane. Strange, but mundane.

He didn't want to know what all that was about.

There was just entirely too much weirdness about the situation for him to even begin wondering where he should start.

Instead, he carefully ignored Karasuba as she pretended to be a mannequin in a shop window. (Which was failing, since the owner of the shop looked to be berating her at the moment.)

And he just as carefully ignored the old man and his team as they continued to follow him.

It seemed like the best thing to do.

* * *

_While observing the comings and goings of Izumo House, we have come across a rare wonder: an omega male Sekirei._

_Male Sekirei are rare, though it is currently unknown as to why this is. There might be some unknown biological favor towards female adolescents that we have yet to isolate, or perhaps parents tend to favor daughters over sons. For now, it will remain a mystery._

_While studying the omega male of Izumo House, we made a startling discovery. Like female hyenas, a Sekirei male can grow vestigial sexual organs of the opposite sex..._

Homura sighed in contentment as he lowered himself into the steaming bathtuyb, savoring the heat of the water.

Ever since Haruka and Shiina had left the house, he'd been dragooned into doing even more of the chores around the house. For some reason, Miya seemed loathe to make the women currently inhabiting the household do an equal share of work. Which was totally unfair, but not worth getting an eyeful of that horrible apparition over.

**Vrrrr~**

The sound caused Homura to startle, letting out a yelp of surprise as he did so. For a moment he was terrified that Matsu had tricked Shirou into entering the bathroom once more when he was occupying it, only for him to realize that after the first incident he'd started locking the door behind him. Unless Shirou was in the habit of magically unlocking doors just to see what was on the other side, (and Homura would have to imagine that even someone who had a track-record for being dense at times like Shirou did would be able to puzzle out what might be inside a locked bathroom,) it seemed unlikely that that was the case.

Cautiously, the fire-user poked a head above the rim of the bathtub to survey his surroundings.

There, in the middle of the room, was a small robot. It had a camera trailed on him, though it seemed to linger around his chest area.

Homura stared at the thing, an arm clutched tightly around his bare chest and a murderous scowl on his face.

"I am so going to kill Matsu for this." He grumbled darkly, knowing that there could only be one person to blame for the perverted invasion of his personal time.

* * *

_Like human families, Sekirei prefer to eat communally with other members of their flock. It is believed that such occasions provide opportunities for the females to sort out the pecking order, and of course even more attempts to gain the attentions of the alpha male._

_Such attempts, however, more often than not bring down the ire of the alpha female. If we remain very quiet, we might witness just such an occasion..._

Shirou placed the last put down on the dinner table with a satisfied smile, proud of the meal he had made. He looked around the table, happy to see that his flock was already enjoying his food.

"Shooo goooood!" Musubi cried out, tears of joy streaking down her face once more as seemed to be customary at every meal.

"Jiiii~" Kusano happily agreed.

"Indeed, husband." Tsukiumi concurred, though she did so while glowering at the smugly satisfied Akitsu who sat at her Ashikabi's side.

"Fufufufu," Matsu leered over me, and he caught the ominous shining of her glasses when he looked over at her. A small amount of dread welled up in him as she piped up. "Perhaps Shirou and I could desert together. It could be very... sweet."

Miya loudly cleared her throat, and as one everyone at the table turned in dread to face her.

"Now now, Matsu-chan," The elder Sekirei chided merrily, her eyes crinkling together. A pair of horns slowly emerged from behind her, as did the baleful red eyes below them a moment later. They stared hatefully down the table at the hacker, who quailed under its gaze. "You should know that that sort of talk is forbidden at the dinner table."

Matsu shivered briefly.

_"As we can clearly see, the alpha female is displeased with her underlings for trying to woo her male. Senior Sekirei are often prone to jealousy, and will not abide younger Sekirei trying to steal their males away from them."_

Once again everyone at the table froze, though this time it was in outright mortification. As one, they all turned slightly to observe the old man who was watching them from the porch with his team diligently at work recording the whole affair.

Noticing their scrutiny, the old man lowered his voice to a whisper. A stage whisper, anyways. He was still clearly audible to everyone at the dinner table, which became even more painfully clear with each spoken sentence.

_"The alpha male, for his part, does not seem to mind this squabbling. Whether it is with his alpha female or the other members of his flock, he is content to copulate with any of them."_

"What the hell are you saying?" Shirou shouted indignantly. "That's nowhere even close to true!"

"Hey!" Homura protested as well, though for different reasons. "How come you're the alpha male?"

Shirou would have answered, but he was interrupted by the sound of wood clashing against wood. A quick glance confirmed what he was suspecting, which was that Miya was already brimming with righteous female fury.

Darkness was wreathed around her like a shroud, and all around her demon masks burst into existence like a thousand malevolent stars.

"Shirou-san," She ground out with barely constraint anger. "Are these friends of yours?"

"No!" He was quick to refute, appalled at the horrific scene he was witnessing.

"Good." Miya said with a grim smile. A hiss of steel being freed accompanied that smile, and Shirou was suddenly very glad he had done nothing to earn her ire. "Then you won't mind when I kill them."

* * *

*Bonus!*

**A Mother's Worries**

A few days later Takami worked up the courage to actually watch Minaka's stupid little side-project.

She spent the next hour entranced by the shocking disregard for personal space, ass-backwards wrong assumptions and sheer crazy on display. And then she whipped out her phone, and called her son.

She wasted no time at all in asking the question that mattered the most to her.

"What's this I hear about you copulating with anyone?" She growls out angrily.


	16. Fraga Rock?

_Transcribed (sorta) from the forums:_

**Syroc: **_*Inadvertently traumatizes the forums with images of a crossdressing EMIYA*_

**Gwonbush:** _My eyes!_

**WanderingWriter79:** I will _fight_ you, o King of Omake! I will _bring you down!_

**Syroc: **O rly? Omake-storm no jutsu! _*Promptly shrugs out several Omake*_

* * *

**Fraga Rock?**

If anyone had been awake so late at night and known what to look for the night that the last heir of the Archibald clan had died, they might have borne witness to a rare sight: a singing Fraga. Well, 'singing' was a strong word. It was more a strange mix of humming and whispering under her breath. It was, in fact, her unofficial theme song. And it went something like this:

_"I'll fight my cares away,  
Kick some ass and then get paid!"_

At this point she clapped her hands together quietly to fit in with the beat of her crooning.

_"And I'll do it any day,  
__'Cause I use the Fragarach!"_

_"I'm awesome, that's what they say!  
And I agree so that's okay!  
I'm strong and fast and rich and hot!"_

And now the sharply dressed woman paused for a moment to dance for a brief moment to a tune that only she was privy to. It was a curious thing to see, if anyone had been around to do so. It lasted only a few moments before she once again launched into song.

_"I'll fight my cares away,  
Kick some ass and then get paid!"_

And so her night continued, endlessly singing to herself as she hatched a plan to salvage some kind of victory from the defeat of her employer.


	17. Dragon Age: Diminished

**RANDOM!**

That is all.

* * *

**Dragon Age: Diminished**

"'Magic exists to serve man, and never rule over him.'" Knight Commander Greagoir recited, stepping forward. "Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin."

_'Bored!'_ The young elven apprentice, Alim Surana, complained internally. '_Bored bored booo~red!'_

Some might say that Alim Surana had attained half of what the Dalish elves secret yearned for: his mind, at least, had stayed that of a teenaged boy with a permanent disinterest in listening to his elders and/or betters. The Senior Enchanters to one all secretly despaired of the young mage ever maturing beyond that of a pubescent jackass of man. For all that growing up amongst halls lined with armored sentinels trained to kill him at a moment's notice, young Alim seemed to have managed to _not_ gain a healthy respect for authority. It was uncanny.

"Your magic is a gift, but it also a curse. For demons of the dream realm, the Fade, are-"

_'Blah blah blah.'_ Alim continued, already disregarding the gravity of the situation. '_I wonder what this is all about?'_ He mused, as if those around him _weren't_ trying to explain that to him right now.

Alim lived happily in his own world most of the time. It wasn't that he couldn't be bothered with others, he was just easily distracted. That might have been a problem in his studies if not for the fact that he could learned how to use magic in the same way that other, lesser mortals might learn how to put on their robes. Instruction had never _really_ been necessary: given enough time, he discovered most things on his own. Which was a good thing too, because none of the Senior Enchanters had really wanted to teach someone who looked like his mind was only halfway in the present at any given moment. Each of his masters had traded him amongst them in rapid succession until this very day: his Harrowing.

And now, at this moment, the First Enchanter realized that Alim had once again managed to distract himself with whatever it was that happened in his own head.

"Ah, Greagoir?" First Enchanter Irving said, hiding a smile inside his beard. "I believe your speech has fallen on deaf ears."

The Knight Commander looked at the young mage and gave out a loud sigh. Without warning he pushed Alim Surana towards an ornate fountain that contained a strangely iridescent substance.

"Touch the Lyrium, go to the Fade, kill a demon." Greagoir abbreviated, hugely disappointed in the whole affair.

Alim startled slightly at the sudden movement, and without thinking he dipped his hand into the substance even before he had a chance to listen to the Knight Commander.

_'Oh dear Maker, its covering me! It's covering me! Get it off, get it off GET IT OF-'_

And then he passed out.

_*Shortly thereafter, inside the Fade!*_

Alim Surana stared hard, a small frown working its way onto his mouth as he carefully considered just what was going on. And then he spoke.

"You're a talking mouse." He accused, pointing a finger at the mouse. "I will call you Georg."

"What? No! Call me Mouse!" The Mouse called Georg protested. "You have to be careful in this place: demons are out to get you!"

"Come along, Georg." Alim said, already disregarding the mouse's words. "We have to go have an adventure and kill a demon. And keep an eye out for princesses. There's bound to be a few around here somewhere."

*_A few moments later!*_

"So if I beat you, you'll give me a weapon?" Alim asked, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"Indeed!" The spirit of Valour agreed.

"Alright. Then I challenge you to rock paper scissors!"

"What? You can't do that!"

"I just did. Are you not brave enough to take up my challenge?"

"I am a spirit of Valour, mortal, and I will not play children's games!" The spirit protested, sounding greatly affronted at the mere notion.

"Then I win by default." Alim said triumphantly.

The spirit stared hard at the mage for a moment, then shook its head despairingly.

"Just take one and _go away_, mortal." He said, defeated by inanity.

*_A few more moments later!*_

"Are you the demon I have to defeat?" Alim asked, looking the spiky bear-thing up and down. "You don't look very scary."

"That's a Sloth Demon!" Georg/Mouse hissed nervously. "It can rip us to shreds if it wants to! Don't provoke it!"

"Ooh, another mortal come into the fade on their Harrowing." The freaky bear-thing said with a long suffering sigh. "How you people can go fluttering about so often makes me weary just _thinking_ about it."

"Is it true what Georg said?" Alim asked, sounding genuinely curious (while also ignoring the mouse's protests that his name wasn't Georg). "Can you _really_ rip me to shreds?"

"Indeed." The lazy demon acknowledge, shifting itself into a more comfortable position. "This form is quite powerful, if I might say so myself."

"Can you make Georg as powerful as you are?"

"Certainly I _could_, if I wanted to. But I do not."

"Please?"

"Hmmph," the demon harrumphed. "Well, I suppose we could play a little game. I will ask you three riddles, and if you answer them all right then I will teach the little rodent what I can. And if you don't, then I will eat you."

Alim considered that for a short time.

"I don't think I'd like being eaten." He mused allowed. "How about you eat Georg instead?"

"What?" The Mouse all but shouted. "You can't do that! What kind of a bastard would do that?"

"He's a bit on the small side, isn't he?" Sloth pointed out, ignoring the mouse. In spite of its words, it considered the offer carefully. "Oh, very well then. I wasn't feeling very hungry after all. Then let us begin: I have seas without water, shores without sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

"Hmm, that's a tricky one." Alim complimented, and went into a thoughtful pose. A moment later he shrugged. "I have no idea what that is."

"Wh, what?" Georg/Mouse shrieked out in horror.

"Sorry Georg." The elf said, then turned away. "See you later Sloth-Bear-Thing!"

"Nooo-" _**Chomp!**_

_*Even more moments later!*_

"Well, that was an anticlimactically easy battle." Alim said, prodding the body of molten stone that was pooling up on the ground that moments before had been a roaring demon of Rage. "I wonder why people said this would be hard."

"Oooh, dear." Alim turned at the familiar voice of the Sloth demon he had met and fed Georg to not too long ago. Apparently the thing now felt active enough to approach the small clearing where an intense battle had raged just moments ago. "I cannot help but think, mortal, that some how you've tricked me. I've felt absolutely _wretched_ after I ate your friend."

"Maybe eating him gave you a conscience?" Alim suggested.

"No, I don't think so. I still want to rip you to shreds, its just that I feel so very... bad." The demon said. "In fact I feel- urk!"

Whatever the demon had been about to say was abruptly cut off as a massive, clawed hand ripped itself from its back with explosive force, sending out a spray of blood and gore as the sloth demon's body was torn asunder. The demon gave out an agonized animalistic scream as a second arm tore its way free. And then, as improbably impossible as it seemed, the demon was ripped apart as an even _bigger_ demon tore itself out of its belly. It was like watching a nightmarish, demonic reverse Russian doll in action.

Alim stared upwards at the titanic demon in front of him, his mouth making a perfect 'o' of amazement as it stretched into its full height.

"Well done, mortal, in defeating the demon." The towering beast complimented. And then, without warning, it slashed outwards with a wide sweep of its spiked arms. "But you have ignored the dangers of this realm, and let your hubris blind you. Now you will pay the price."

*_Not too far away!*_

The nameless spirit watched, its tiny luminescent form quivering slightly as it watched the hopeless fight unfold before it. The light of its existence seethed and flared to see such an incredibly powerful beast kill such a frail mind.

Like many of the lesser denizens of the Fade, it had felt the presence of a mortal mind. And, just like most of them, it had warily approached to observe the intruder.

Unlike the many, however, this spirit was no mere demon that had lost its power. It was of mortal origin, born far away on world that was at once very similar and impossibly different. But most importantly of all, it _remembered_.

It remembered iron ideals filled with fiery resolve.

It remembered endless battles and an unending defeat even as it triumphed over others.

It remembered regret, despair and then finally hope.

And then it remembered being forgotten and lost, discarded by a world that had no need of heroes like it.

But seeing that alien creature, that intruder upon this realm, be so mercilessly destroyed caused it to tremble, to remember a time when it would fight tooth and nail against beasts such as these. Weak as it was, it remembered a desperate _need_ to help others.

And that need was enough to motivate it to get closer to the fight, to flick from side to side in front of the demon to confuse it for a moment and then bore itself deep inside the mind of the bloodied, ragged creature that lay broken on the ground.

It remembered what it was like to fight for what it believed, and decided that it would be better to die for that those beliefs than persist alone and forgotten.

And in that moment Alim snapped his eyes back open, strength flowing back into him. Without quite knowing how, or even why, he forced himself to his feet. It was impossibly difficult: his body felt like it was being pulled down by a thousands upon thousands of pounds of weight, his limbs were weak and ruined, and his mind was a blank slate filled only with pain. But he knew that there was only one thing he could do, and that was to stand up and fight.

The demon sensed his sudden resolve, and laughed at him. The sound was deafening, cruel and malevolent. Alim hated it.

"Again the mortal stands!" It taunted, and took a step forward. "Who do you think you are to challenge me?"

"I am the bone of my sword," Alim sang softly, feeling as if it was the most perfect thing in the world to say. "Fire is my blood and glass is my heart."

The Fade rippled at the words, bending itself to contort around a will that could bend reality itself into a shape of Alim's choosing.

And the shape Alim chose was a sword. Hundreds of them. They appeared with small whorls of movement in the air, accompanied with the sound of ringing steel as they were forged in an instant. And then they slashed through the air like a volley of arrows fired at point blank, cutting into the demon with fleshy knells of quivering blades and shattering carapace and breaking bones and sliced flesh, ripping the demon apart in their glittering onslaught.

The demon staggered forward in spite of the deadly barrage, a look of pure dumbfounded surprise plain on its nightmarish face. It fell to one knee first, reach feebly towards the mage before a claymore pinned it to the ground and the died with a wet gurgling as it tried to give voice to its fury at the rapid chain of events.

Alim had no idea how he had managed to do that, where he had drawn the knowledge to cast that spell. But he also knew that the knowledge was still inside him, just waiting for him to reach out and take it.

He wondered if this was what being an abomination felt like.

It wasn't that bad. He didn't know what all the fuss was about, really.

And then the Fade unraveled around him, the real world swirling into existence right before his eyes.

Faces hovered above him. Well, one face and what looked like a beard with eyes and teeth. The vision would always haunt him from that moment on.

"... he seems to be alright, Gregro..." A distant voice said before trailing off into mumbles.

"... in there for far too long, Irving. I'm not sure..." Another voice quarreled with the first. Alim wished they would take the beard-monster away. It kept moving disconcertingly.

".. will have to check up on him later, I sup-..."

A presence inside of him stirred, shifting inside of him. It was such a tiny, unnoticeable thing. A small voice in the vast cacophony of his mind. A little feeling in a maelstrom of emotions. But it sensed his need for rest, and it pushed that need into his mind and body. _It_ would heal him. _It_ would make certain that he would survive.

And, seeing that it made a good case, Alim would let it.

Darkness took him in that moment, and sleep followed soon after.

That night, Alim Surana had a strange dream.

He dreamed of a warrior who had fought and died for his ideals. A warrior who stood on a hill of swords dressed in red, staring into a distant setting sun. A warrior who died alone, roaring defiance against insurmountable odds and swinging swords.

He dreamed of a warrior whose legend grew to be so strong, so revered, that his existence transcended mere fleshy matter and became the stuff of dreams to those he had saved and nightmares to those that had survived his onslaught. He dreamed of a hero, an invincible spirit that had made the world tremble.

A hero whose time had come and passed, whose name was forgotten and lost to history. Whose power fled and vanished as his legend became no more. Who was cast down from his lofty heights, and forced to take on a lowly existence, dreaming of a time when it had been revered. Who became a shadow of its former self, pushed across the edges of reality on metaphysical winds and tides that brought it so very far from the world that had once been familiar.

For the first time but far from the last, he dreamed of swords and battle.

And he thought it was awesome.


	18. No One Left Behind: Save Me Shirou!

_Transcripted (sorta) from my own head_

**Syroc:** Didn't I already make you into your own separate story?

**Omake:** Yes, almighty creator! But I am far too silly to be a part of that story!

**Syroc:** … Don't tempt me.

**Omake:** Also, I would not appear in chronological order!

**Syroc:** Hmm, you're right. Clearly you would appear much later in the story. Wait, that means you time travelled! Quickly, take me to the distant future where my glory is realized! _Take me to my worshippers, Avatar of My Errant Silliness!_

**Omake:** ... My creator is an idiot.

* * *

**No One Left Behind: "Save Me Shirou!"**

After a hard day of work and collaborating with Rin to make enough food for the many Sekirei we were living with and Saber to boot, the retreat to the shed that had become the combined workshop of Rin and I was a welcome change of scenery. Working on my rune-work, while not my preferred line of research, was yielding interesting results.

Which brought me to the focus of my research: the runic clock. I had briefly entertained the notion of modifying a household appliance to run on runecraft, but Rin's presence meant that the risk of getting an impassioned tirade on abusing the talents of a magus. And Rin was very, _very_ scary when it came to magecraft. Clockwork seemed esoteric enough in its own right that putting a few runes here and there hardly seemed wrong.

Of course, that also meant that I had to learn how to assemble a clock. Progress was painfully slow.

Glaring balefully through Rin's special magnifying glass at the tiny cog that I was carefully soldering tiny runic arrays around its centre.

And then someone bashed their fist against the door to the shed, shattering the air of concentration I had going and causing me to startle. My hands jolted slightly, and the cog flew from the tweezer I had held them in to disappeared into the pile of assorted parts.

I sighed in agitation, then rose to answer the door. I would deal with the mystery of the missing cog at a later date.

After carefully undoing the wards that Rin had constructed to protect our workshop and then unlocking the door, I opened it to reveal a nervous-looking Homura.

Ah. The misfortunes just keep stacking up, it seems.

"Shirou," The sekirei greeted nervously, a hand reaching up to his chest and scratching at it fitfully. "I have to ask you a favour."

I give him a blank stare.

Really. After weeks of insinuating to Rin that she would be better off without me, his cold treatment of Akitsu and so many other small slights, he came to me for a _favour_?

"This had better be important." I inform him coolly.

"It is." Homura assured me, then looked around again. "Could I come in?"

"No." It was already a huge compromise for Rin and I to share a workshop. I wasn't about to let someone else invade it without reason. "You can ask me from there."

"Alright, alright," The Sekirei acquiesced, fidgeting nervously for a moment before he pressed on. "Alright, I don't know how to say this so I'll just come right out with it: I need you to have sex with Rin."

For what seemed like an eternity, I said nothing. I was entirely too stunned by the request to do so. I opened my mouth a few times as if to answer, but no words would issue forth. Or rather, there were entirely too many that were fighting to come out first. But eventually the moment past and I managed to splutter out a graceful reply.

"W, what the hell are you talking about? Why do you want to, to, to-" I trail off into unintelligible gibbering, a blush beginning to form on my cheeks.

"Please, listen to me!" Homura pleaded, trying to make his request more understandable. "I said earlier how I was a special case, right? Well, one of the things that makes me special is that I can... _change_ to suit my Ashikabi's preferences. And with Rin being surrounded by women all the time, I think she might be, erm..."

It was his turn to blush and trail off into silence.

"So you want me to have sex with Rin to... what, make her like boys?" I ask, dumbfounded. "I don't think it works like that."

"It _has_ to!" Homura cried out desperately. "Please, you have to save me, Shirou! For the sake of my man-parts, you have to have sex with Rin!"

"You can't just _ask_ me for that!" I protested, blushing fiercely. "Besides, Miya-san would catch us in a second!"

"I don't care! I'll rent you a room if you want!" Homura fell to his knees and clutched desperately at the bottom of my shirt. "Save my junk, Shirou! You're my only hope!"


	19. Ashikabi Your Ashikabi Could Look Like

**The Ashikabi Your Ashikabi Could Look Like**

Kuno flicked idly through the channels of the tv, bored but too shy to ask Haruka if they could do something.

It turned out that Haruka hadn't thought his plan out very far, and after being conscripted into whatever it was Yukari was planning on doing they had been forced to rent a room at a hotel in the North. While it was still a little close to Shirou for comfort, the fact remained that the North was the calmest section of the city. Remembering that it was fear of those who dwelt there did little to comfort them.

Suddenly, a familiar face caught her eye, and she quickly flicked back to the previous channel.

There was Shirou, wearing only a towel in the Izumo Inn bathroom. For a moment she was taken aback by the plethora of scars that riddled his body, but that was quickly overridden by the fact that he was, in fact, carved like a Greek god.

"Hello Sekirei." Shirou said in a suspicious sauve voice, with an almost mischievous grin on his face. "Look at your Ashikabi. Now back to me. Now back at your Ashikabi. _Now back to me._ Sadly, your Ashikabi is not me. But if he stopped being an effeminate pansy and got himself a pair of swords, you could pretend that he was me. Look down,"

The scenery behind Shirou suddenly began to lift upwards, revealing a luxurious yacht and a sunny afternoon. Shirou began to move towards the right, never once looking away from the camera even as a cardigan dropped over Shirou's shoulders and his towel dropped away, showing the shorts below.

"Now back up. Where are you?" He asked rhetorically, and answered his own question without missing a beat. "You're on a boat with the Ashikabi your Ashikabi could pretend to be."

Kuno stared open-mouthed at the commercial, her eyes wide in confused amazement. What the hell was going on?

The camera zoomed in on Shirou, whose unflinchingly serious face continued his assault on sensibility.

"What's that in your hand?" He asked. "_Back at me!_ I have it." He lifted his hand slowly, showing... "It's an oyster filled with two tickets to that thing you love. Look again:" The oyster fell away from his hand, now revealing... "_The tickets are now diamonds!_ Anything is possible when your Ashikabi looks like a badass and not like a lady!"

The camera began to pan away, and now Shirou was...

"I'm on a horse." Shirou stated plainly, still resolutely staring forward even as the horse walked to the side. The words "Shirou's Shin-Tokyo Shinai Outlet" faded into view next to him.

And then the commercial ended, and something else came on.

Kuno stared hard at her television screen, utterly perplexed by what she had seen. What had she just watched?

And why did she suddenly want to go out and buy swords?

* * *

Something is called for:

**Syroc does not own the Isaiah Mustafa 'Old Spice' commercials, the Sekirei manga nor the FSN franchise.** Because he is entirely too poor to be the owners of such properties.

Also:

_Transcripted (sorta) from the forums:_

**Lycodrake:** Hey, you stole that one from someone else.

**Syroc: **I... don't know what you're talking about?

**Justbehappydammit:**Yeah, I'm pretty sure you did.

**WanderingWriter79:** I agree.

**Syroc:** Curse you, brain! Nobody likes your amazing 'ridiculously early senility' trick!


	20. Technomancer

**Technomancer**

"Ugh, what is _taking_ them so long?" My would-be abductor grumbled not for the first time.

Apparently kidnapping one of the participants of the Sekirei Plan without causing too much of a stir was easier said than done. Who would have thought that after blowing up a place even MBI was hesitant to flex their power around would have set off a few alarms? And likewise who would think that alarming one of the most influential companies in the world, who had thousands of armed soldiers in their employ, (not to mention a certain superhuman, bloodlusting stalker-Sekirei and her henchmen,) could have made getting discreet transport out of the city difficult?

The answer to both of those questions was, apparently, "a Fraga magus".

The woman had executed her plan flawlessly: get in (via explosion), beat me into submission (with magically enhanced Fists of Fury that would have made Musubi want to cry in shame) and then escape into the night while my flock was still recovering the ass-kicking she had inflicted upon them (with the liberal application of runic power). I, by dint of being insensate at the time, had only recently woken up to my captor's fuming impatience.

"Probably the guards stationed at every checkpoint of the city." I answer her question, and took a small amount of pleasure from the way she whirled on me in annoyance. As if punctuating my statement, a helicopter flew by, its searchlight casting deep shadows into the abandoned building we were currently squatting in. "Oh, and the armed search parties." I added, almost like an after-thought.

I like to think that living with Rin was responsible for the pleasure I took in being a smartass, but to be perfectly honest I think it was something of a natural progression. It was only a matter of time before the many times I'd risked my life in battle gave me a somewhat flippant attitude towards this sort of thing.

The Fraga glowered at me for a moment, before deciding that I wasn't worth the effort of beating back into unconsciousness. Instead, she approached one of the windows of the decrepit warehouse we were hiding out in, still mumbling to herself.

And then I heard a quiet rumbling, and realized it hadn't come from me.

"Geh, I hope they have food with them." I heard the female magus mutter to herself.

I can't help but frown, and then look thoughtfully down at my bound hands. I'd been quite surprised when I finally got my bearings to realize that they were, in fact, not behind my back. Or tied to my ankles. Just in front of me. With a heavily runed rope, to be sure, but they were still relatively free.

I weighed my options, and decided that there was nothing wrong with gaining the good-will of my captor. It really was the best option in this situation.

I awkwardly brought both my hands down to my waist, and did a strange wriggling movement with my back in order to free my cellphone from the confines of my pocket. I soon felt the light weight of the plastic thing in my hands, and then I

"What are you doing?" The Fraga asked suspiciously, watching my movements with narrowed eyes but not seeing anything threatening about them. After all, I was thoroughly captured. I could vouch for that.

"Getting food." I answer her flippantly, bringing up the necessary applications on the phone. (I was hugely thankful yet again that Matsu had devoted herself to educating a barbarian like myself in the ways of technology.) "Is Chinese fine with you?"

The Fraga tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"Eeeh?" She aid slowly, obviously perplexed. "But, but, how?"

I could almost _see_ the giant question marks popping up over her head as she said it and I suppressed the urge to sigh heavily. A few weeks ago, that would have been me. No, I would have been even worse, maybe: at least this Fraga didn't seem to have any preconceptions of what was and wasn't possible. Maybe her easy acceptance of mysteries had something to do with how long she had studied magic?

"It would take too long to explain. I'll just order some chow-mein, yeah?"

As if answering me, her stomach rumbled yet again. The Fraga couldn't stop the blush from appearing on her cheeks as I smiled knowingly.

"Ah, yes!" She answered quickly, then turned away from me. No doubt she was more than a little confused at my helpfulness. I was probably one of the only people on the planet that was willing to order out for the person who had broken into my home and kidnapped me.

I suppressed a wry chuckle, and placed an order. Really, who goes to kidnap someone on an empty stomach?

*_Twenty minutes later!*_

We heard the car pull up, and then the doors open and close. Then something that sounded like uncertain mumbling, followed by a loud _**creeeak**_ as what I guessed to be ancient, rusty doors were pulled open.

"Uhm, is there an Emiya Shirou here?" Someone asked nervously.

The Fraga looked pointedly at me, her eyes telling me that if I in any way messed this up she'd take it out of my hide. It was a strange look that at once reminded me of both Rin and Saber at the same time.

Ah, to be at the mercy of a demanding woman. How nostalgic.

"A, ah!" I answered loudly, then nod back at my captor. "My friend will be out to pick up the order in just a second."

She understood instantly, and with a parting glare she left me. The message was clear: "If you try to wriggle away (my feet were tied up just like my hands) I will gut you like a fish." I was used to looks like that. Ilya had given me a fair share of them during the War.

So instead of making a pointless effort of escaping I just waited. It was the smart thing to do in this situation.

Not long after this the Fraga returned, a pair of bags in her hands and a smile a mile wide on her face.

"How did you _do_ that?" She asked me excitedly, much happier now that the prospect of filling her belly was there.

"I'd tell you, but wouldn't you rather eat?" I ask, pointing at the bag.

"Hmm... you have a point." The woman said flippantly. "Well, thanks for the food!"

She began to tear into the meal with gusto, wielding chopsticks like a pro as she shoveled the noodly food into her mouth.

I took a small amount of satisfaction, as however indirectly it had been I was responsible for her satisfaction in the meal.

*_Later, after being fed!*_

"Right, so tell me how you did that." The Fraga asked, now fully fed and less of the muttering, scowling misanthrope she had been earlier.

"Oh, I used my phone." I answered her, holding up the device for her inspection.

Without waiting for permission, she removed it from my hands and inspected it.

"Wha-" She said, puzzlement passing onto her face. "This is a _phone_? Where are the buttons?"

Oh. This might take a while.

I'd thought that since she was a mercenary she'd be more acquainted with the modern world. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised that someone from the Mages Association wouldn't know this sort of thing. I myself was still trying to catch up after a few years with the Clock Tower.

I steeled myself for a long battle, and began the heavy task of enlightening my captor in the ways of modern technology.

And promptly realized just how _hard_ it was to do so with my own half-learned knowledge. The sun was just beginning to creep up from below the horizon and I was _still_ trying to explain just what the internet was and how it worked. (She kept trying to call it a magical library, and each time I was reminded of my own preconceptions about it.)

Eventually she found something to occupy her, though I had to wonder just what a 'fraggle' was or why she would take such an inordinate joy in hearing someone sing about their rocks. It was one of those mysteries that would forever haunt me.

Luckily, however, I was spared from much speculation by the timely arrival of my flock.

Maybe it was because she was too preoccupied with playing with my phone, maybe my previous kindness had lulled her into a false sense of security, or maybe she just wasn't that experienced, but whatever the reason she didn't sense the arrival of the Sekirei until they were already inside the room, and at that point it was just too late.

Although I suspect that her five minute tirade on the impossibility of randomly being able to play the word 'quixotic' on a triple word tile may have distracted her more than a little.

In any case, when Musubi punched her way through a door with a triumphant cry of "Bear Punch!" the Fraga had only a second to react before Tsukiumi blasted her with a high-powered torrent of water that threw her backwards into the wall.

What followed afterwards was a lopsided beat-down of epic proportions that led to my release.

The Fraga glowered balefully at us as she lay on the ground, singed and soaking and tied up with the very ropes she had used on me.

My flock each took a turn at worrying over me, inspecting me closely for any signs of damage. I happily allowed them to go through their ministrations, knowing that they must have been greatly distressed by my kidnapping.

With that out of the way, we turned to leave...

"Before you go," The Fraga suddenly asked, looking towards me. "How did they know where to find us? I made sure that we couldn't be tracked."

I consider not telling her for a moment. After all, doing so might make her a more formidable opponent in the future. But I decided that there was little point in withholding the information from her: there was little chance that she would know what I was talking about.

"Well, first I used the GPS program on my phone, then uploaded the coordinates to Boggle Maps and them IM'd Matsu-san with directions when you were busy with the food." I explain easily, thanking Matsu yet again for her tireless efforts to educate her unworthy Ashikabi/student.

Sure enough, the Fraga stared blankly at me.

"Bwuh?" She said eventually, blinking. "I, uh, what?"

I sigh, and took pity on her.

"I used the magic library to divine where I was, then transmitted the information back to my flock with... magic crystals? Yeah, that sounds close enough..." I lie easily, wondering if she would believe it.

"Oooh..." The magus said, nodding with understanding.

"Well, see you later." I said easily, smiling at her.

"Wait!" The Fraga cried out desperately. "You _have_ to teach me about this stuff! I could do all _sorts_ of cool stuff with that kind of power!"

"Eh?" I asked, confused by what she had just said.

"Just _imagine_ it!" She said with enthusiasm, fire burning hot in her eyes. "I would be _unstoppable_ with this kind of power! I could locate my enemies from afar without magecraft, study town layouts without being there_ and I would never have to get my own food ever again!_"

I found it strange that she would put such a premium on the last ability.

But this presented me with a unique opportunity. With a much more powerful Magus helping defend Izumo Inn, any Enforcers that made it their business to track me down would have a much harder time of it. And even if shedidtry to betray me, I would have plenty of time to learn her quirks and abilities.

And I wasn't exactly fond of the idea of letting her run around free. I couldn't be sure she wouldn't just bide her time where I couldn't keep an eye on her for the chance to ambush me again. Much better to keep her close at hand.

(Killing her hadn't been an option. There was an old-fashioned sense of honour inside of me that refused to harm someone whom I had procured food for. Besides, she seemed nice enough now that she wasn't trying to beat me senseless.)

"Alright," I said levelly, much to my flock's surprise. "But we'll be watching you."

"I wouldn't expect any less." The Fraga said with a toothy grin. "Now get me loose from here, Master."

I blink at the title, then realized that that was exactly what I was now. I now had an apprentice in the technological arts.

Matsu was going to be so proud of me.

* * *

**AN:** A note to any aspiring writers: if you're going to make changes in your works, make sure you remember to put those changes back into the original. That way you can avoid having to perform four consecutive edits just to get the published work right. Or, baring that, at the very least _look_ at the edits you're making.

Do not be like me.

Do not be a fool.

;p


	21. The PowerBust Theory

**The Power/Bust Theory**

"Aha!" Matsu cried out excitedly, instantly garnering the attention of all present. "Matsu-tan has it! She has discovered the reason!"

I blinked at the proclamation, and paused in the act of drying off a dish.

"What did you find out?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"The reason for small breasts!" The hacker announced triumphantly.

There was a sudden crashing sound, and it took a moment before everyone realized it was because I had dropped the dish I had been drying a moment earlier. They ignored it, however, in favour of Matsu's ground-breaking discovery.

"Eeeh?" Musubi gasped, radiating awed surprise. "Musubi always wondered about that!"

"Ara?" Miya perked, smirking mirthfully. "I think Matsu-san has been using her time on useless things."

"W, what the hell kind of research are you doing?" Tsukiumi blustered, trying in vain to stop herself from blushing.

"Oh, I have to hear this." Uzume said, somehow materializing a bucket of pop-corn from nothing.

My flock each expressed varying degrees of interest and mortification each in their turn. Blushes appeared on all of them, (with the exception of Kuu-chan, who seemed more perplexed at why everyone was making such a fuss than interested, and Kazehana. Though I suspected the only reason she didn't do so was because of her intrinsic lack of shame.) though they all watched with rapt attention as Matsu suddenly whipped out a stack of drawings and charts and arranged them on a stand.

I frowned, a question springing to mind.

"Where did you get those cards from?" I asked, as I hadn't noticed any of them until now.

"Don't bother me with frivolous questions, Shirou-tan!" Matsu admonished loudly, and struck a pose next to the first of her presentation cards. "It's time I presented the fruits of my labours!"

It said "The Smart And Sexy Matsu-Tan's Glorious 'Power To Bust-Size Ratio' Theory!" along with what looked like a chibi-Matsu striking a victory pose.

The gathering of Sekirei 'ooh'ed and 'ahh'ed, though certain members were having trouble containing either their laughter or complete and utter mortification.

I, for my part, simply stared in open-mouthed shock at the scene that was unfolding before my eyes.

"To start with, Matsu should begin by saying that she has noticed something about powerful women!" Matsu continued enthusiastically, and snapped away the first presentation card.

Which revealed what I can only call a wall of breasts.

Big ones. Small ones. Modest ones. Gargantuan ones. Perky ones. Sagging ones. If there was a particular size and shape a breast could have, it was represented on that card.

Luckily for Matsu, they were all decently covered. I do not want to think of what Miya would have done to the playful hacker if she had flashed such a creation in front of Kuu-chan.

"Behold!" Matsu commanded, and I am certain that we were all too surprised at what we were seeing to do anything but that. "I have meticulously arranged each of these mammaries in proportion to size, and I have discovered something of vital importance!"

Despite myself, I felt my gaze dragged away from that bizarre presentation towards Matsu, who grinned triumphantly.

"The more powerful they are, the bigger their breasts are!" She said loudly.

Silence was the first reaction. And then, almost shamefacedly, there was a series of furtive glances around them room. Musubi even went as far as to cup hers and then Akitsu's in order to better compare.

"Oho, what an interesting theory, Matsu-san." Miya said with a chuckle, holding a hand up to her mouth to hide her smirk. "But are you so sure you've thought of _everything_?"

I'm certain that Miya meant for that remark to be an ominous warning and not a challenge. Matsu, it seemed, chose to instead interpret it as the latter.

"Ufufufu, of course I have, Miya-tan!" Her hand snapped back her presentation, and showed the next card.

Which displayed a grim Miya, a grinning Karasuba and a photograph of me, Saber and Rin. There was a red circle drawn around the busts of all the women in those pictures, along with zoomed-in pictures of the area in question below each photograph.

"Wait, where'd you find that picture?" I ask, full of indignation. It was bad enough that Matsu was using them for her perverted little side-project, but just where had she gotten it from?

"Matsu-tan found it in your room when she was looking around there for things that might tell her more about him. Now stop asking frivolous questions!" Matsu answered quickly and without a trace of regret. "As we can see here, there is _clearly_ a flaw in my theory as it is! The strongest Sekirei we know of also have modest-sized busts, which is not in line with my earlier thesis! Also, Shirou-tan's lovers from England are almost flat as pancakes! For the longest time, the reason for this eluded Matsu-tan! _However_!"

She flipped to the next card, which showed a line-chart that showed a steady increase in height before suddenly dropping off, with 'x' being power and 'y' being bust-size. Interspersed along the chart were marks that connected to various pictures. Kuno, Musubi, Kazehana, Miya and Saber each appeared at various stages along the chart.

"It was at this point that Matsu discovered the Un-busty cliff!"

Silence greeted this proclamation. And then...

"The 'un-busty cliff'?" Homura said, deadpan. "What kind of a dumb name is that?"

"Do not mock my theory!" The light gleamed ominously off of Matsu's glasses, and a moment later a narrow metal rod appeared in her hand as she slapped it against the chart. "This clearly shows a drop-off point of bust sizes amongst the most powerful of women! But that is not enough! They must also be in charge of those around them! They must be the alpha-females!"

"This is ridiculous," Homura began, shaking his head. "Matsu, why don't you just-"

"My theory is conclusively proven by Homura's boob growth!" Matsu declared authoritatively, making an elaborate gesture out of point at the man in question. "Ever since the power scales have shifted and Homura was no longer the most powerful Sekirei, his breasts have steadily become bigger!"

"W-w-w-w-_what are you talking about?_" Homura screamed in indignation and embarrassment, crossing his arms across his chest and wriggling from side to side in his distress. "_I don't have any breasts!"_

Nobody seemed to believe his impassioned negation, however.

"Oooh, so that's why Homura-san likes to take his baths alone! Musubi always knew there was a reason!" The exuberant young woman exclaimed.

"Ahh!" Uzume cried out, pointing at Homura. "It's like a reverse Crying Game!"

"_This is nothing like that at all!_" Homura cried out. "_Stop making things up! I'm not a woman!_"

"Ufufufu, don't bother trying to hide it, Homura-tan!" Matsu said, giving her trademark lecherous laugh. She reached behind her back, and it came back with a DVD that seemed to give off a sinister shine. "Matsu has seen the evidence!"

"Hah! 'Not like that' my behind!" Kazehana laughed. "I thought something was going on with you, Homura-chan."

"It's not, I-I'm not, I don't- err_aagh_!" Homura gave up his losing battle to properly express his horror and indignation, and instead simply collapsed onto the table, hiding his head in arms.

"But wait," Uzume said, frowning slightly. "If your theory is right, then that would mean that there would have to be someone with small breasts winged to bro. But only Kuu-chan..."

As one, each Sekirei in Izumo house slowly turned to look at Kusano with a contemplative look. (Except for Homura, who was too busy crying into his sleeves to do so.)

"Onii-chan, why is everyone acting so weird?" Kusano asked, confused.

I had no answer for that. I had no answer for any of this. It was all so wrong...

But the moment of contemplation ended soon enough, with each member of my flock (save Kuu-chan, of course,) shaking their head vehemently.

"No, there's no way she's in charge." Kazehana said, sounding a bit shaken up.

"Yeah, that's just not right."

"Musubi is confused..."

"Of course Kuu-chan isn't the dominant female!" Matsu declared authoritatively, and planted a foot on the table and pointed skyward in order to demonstrate just how serious she was. "The one who dominates us all, the one who we do not hesitate to obey is, without question..."

The hacker's finger snapped back down, pointing back to someone who was even now watching the proceedings with a small smile.

"Ara," Miya began, closing her eyes and tilting her head to the side. "I'm glad that you have such respect for me, but I don't thi-"

"Clearly Miya is the most powerful Sekirei in this household!" Matsu continued over Miya's light refutation. "Therefore, it is only fitting that her breasts are the smallest!"

"Perhaps you should-" Miya tried again, sounding a bit less patiently indulgent than before.

"Her relatively small breasts, when compared to ours, make her stand out all the more! Her petit frame sets her apart from all the buxom amazons around her!"

Darkness flooded outwards from Miya like a wave, and from that sea of darkness emerged a swarm of malevolent masks

"Calling me small, _in any way,_ is strictly forbidden." Miya growled out, smiling a terrifying smile that would have put Rin to shame.

I had never seen Miya so angry before.

Matsu, apparently having taken leave of whatever sanity and survival instincts she possessed, continued on.

"The only thing Miya-tan needs to do to perfect her role is wing herself to Shirou- ack!"

The last of what she was about to say was swiftly silenced as Miya whipped out her sword and knocked Matsu out with the still-sheathed blade.

And thank goodness for it too. My bed was already more than crowded enough.


	22. I Like Big Boots

**«I Like Big Boots»**

One day, many years before a certain megalomaniac CEO played Pokemon and decided that it would be awesome to turn it into reality except with ridiculously well-endowed, super-powered aliens, Miya and the rest of the First Disciplinary Squad were relaxing.

Well, most of them were. Miya was moving through various sword kata with a serene look on her face.

Matsu and Kazehana watched, bored from whatever it was they had been doing before.

Suddenly, Matsu noticed something.

"Hey, Kazehana, have you ever noticed how high Miya-san's boots are?" Asked, noticing for the first time ever that their leader was wearing boots that stretched well past her knees.

The amply-chested wind-user blinked at the question, before her gaze narrowed on the articles of clothing.

"Huh, yeah. But Asama-san gave them to her to use as a part of her uniform."

"Hmm... Sometimes I think he only likes her because she's the most 'experienced' of all of us." Matsu said knowingly. "But really, those are just ridiculous. Those boots, they're just so big."

Suddenly and without warning Takehito Asama appeared, a dangerous glint flaring in his eyes.

"Do you want to know why? I'll tell you why, ladies!"

And with that, he burst into song. A horribly, nay horrendously silly song.

_"I like big __boots__ and I cannot lie!  
You other brothers can't deny,"_

The normally buttoned-down researcher sang loudly as Miya began dancing behind him, swaying her lower body from side to side in wide movements.

_"That when a lady goes to town  
Lookin' like her feet weigh twenty pounds  
You get __scared__,  
Judgment impaired,  
'Cause you noticed those shoes can __crush__!"_

Inexplicably a pair of female lab-technicians, still wearing their labcoats, appeared at either side of Miya with similar, but not quite as big, boots.

Takehito continued, completely undistracted by this.

_"Deep in the boots she's wearin',  
There's a can-o-whoopass she longs to be sharin'"_

There was a conspicuous '_shnickt_'-sound as Miya suddenly drew her blade and incorporated it into her wild dance.

_"Oh baby!  
I wanna send you into battle,  
Turn my enemies into my saddle!"_

Seo appeared in a random puff of smoke, a disapproving look on his face.

_"My homeboy tries to warn me,  
But those boots you got makes me horny!"_

Matsu and Kazehana continued to watch the strange affair, their mouths wide in amazement.

And then a giant paper foot came crashing down from the sky and crushed everyone to death.

**The End**


	23. Skyrim Shenanigans

**I Used To Be A Protagonist, But Then I Took An Elder Scroll To The Continuity**

"Hrrm..." There was a quiet purr of contemplation as the Khajiit held the Elder Scroll in front of her, before a small smile spread across her face. "Khajiit wonders what would happen if she read from the Elder Scroll with a monocle on the night of the Revenant and the Blood Moon while ingesting a mixture of red and green Nirnroot while at the same time tuning the fork of horripilation?"

Which, of course, is one of those fantastically unlikely sentences that can only be said shortly before the speaker goes on to do just that. (And Sheogorath also agreed that it was a wonderful idea, and was _totally_worth the risk of destabilizing the integrity of all reality so that he could show someone named Zelretch just how you were _supposed_ to troll someone.)

The Dragonborn pulled out the roots and artifacts in question, and waited for night to fall and the celestial bodies to move into place...

*_Meanwhile, In Shin-Tokyo!_*

"Listen, I _just_ told you! I'm not a robot!" Shirou protested his innocence for what seemed to be the fiftieth time that day.

"No way, Shirou-san!" Musubi protested, refusing to give up. "Musubi _saw_ it! You're made of metal under your skin! But Musubi doesn't hold it against you! She'll teach you how to love, and then you'll have a heart and you won't have to exterminate humanity!"

"That makes no sense at all! And I don't want to exterminate anyone!"

"Husband, we all heard you. You said you were going to terminate that poor girl." Tsukiumi chided, folding her arms across her impressive bosom.

"That was just to scare her- hey what the heck is that?"

'That' was actually a tear in the Root of Reality that spanned across the twisty paths of all existence, connecting the world of Nirn to the reality of Gaia. It looked like like a small hole in the air filled with unknown constellations and vibrant celestial bodies.

Without warning, it _pounced_ and devoured Shirou whole before collapsing in on itself and disappearing with a disappointing 'voip'.

For a long time, nobody said anything. And then, Homura voiced everyone's thoughts for them.

"What the hell just happened?"

*_In reality far, far away!_*

Shirou suddenly found himself falling through various layers of reality, careening from one Daedric Sphere to the next until he appeared just outside of Whiterun and smashed into the ground with a resounding crash. Luckily he had Reinforced himself on the way there, and so the greatest injury he had incurred from the sudden impact had been to his dignity.

Grumbling darkly, he picked himself up and began to survey his surroundings.

He quickly realized that he was no longer in Shin-Tokyo.

With a small frown of confusion, he around and found himself face to face with a large gate and a pair of wide-eyed guards.

"Y, you keep your magic to yourself!" One of them sputtered out with a thick German-esque accent that made Shirou want to call him 'Arnold'.

"Hah!" The other laughed, then approached Shirou with a smile. "You worry too much, Ahnold. He probably just had a fight with a wizard or something, and got teleported away. Are you alright?"

Shirou blanched at that, before he shook his head. O_bviously_ they had very different ideas of what a wizard was if they could so easily throw the word around like that.

"Yes, I should be alright." He said, and managed to force himself to smile. "Can you tell me where I am?"

"Ah, you're in Whiterun, lad." The other guard answered easily, and now Shirou noticed for the first time that he had aridiculously Swedish accent. "Here, why don't you take a rest over at the inn? You look kind of pale."

Shirou frowned, but nodded.

"I think that might be a good idea. I need to try and think of a way to get back home. I don't even want to think of all the trouble they'll get into without me. Can you give me some directions?"

The Swedish Guard nodded, then clasped an arm around Shirou's shoulder encouragingly.

"I'll take you there myself, my shift was over an hour ago. You can tell me what happened. By the way, I'm Sven Svensson"

*_A few moments later*_

Shirou stared hard at the innkeeper, an unreadable expression on his face.

"You mean to tell me that some crazy woman kidnapped your cook, and now you need a new one?" He said slowly. Beside him, Sven watched with a raised eyebrow.

"Yes, that's right." The woman answered. "What about it?"

Shirou gave a beatific smile of pure joy.

"Can I take her place? At least for a few days?"

The innkeeper considered it for a while, then shrugged.

"Sure, if you think you can do the job." She answered carelessly, then gestured behind Shirou. "Kitchen's that way."

The expression Shirou wore as he made his way to the kitchen was one of pure bliss. Ever since Miya had retaken the cooking duties from him at Izumo Inn he hadn't had a chance to do any cooking, and he had been missing it greatly.

*_A few days later!_*

"Hoy, New Guy!" The innkeeper called out. "Your friend wants a sweet-roll! Hop to it, New Guy!"

Shirou did just that.

The last few days had been wonderful. While it had taken some time to get used to the archaic kitchen and all the exotic new spices and ingredients he soon got used to it and thrived, finding the new experience to be all kinds of exhilarating. It had, so far, been one of the most interesting times he had ever lived through.

While he was of course trying to find a way home, (he had already had several conversations with some weird guy named Faraengar,) he also found himself to enjoying this strange new world. He wouldn't mind spending a few more days here.

He placed the confectionary on a plate, and carried it out.

And promptly found himself staring at one of the new patrons to the establishment.

A cat-girl.

He'd heard something about them, but he'd just waved them away as fantastical rumors, much like those of lizard-people or dragons. But apparently there was some truth to them, because there was no mistaking the woman with the strange blue robes as even remotely human. Humans didn't have tails, after all.

He caught himself staring, and instead focused on his task of bringing the pastry to his new friend, Sven. The man had been immensely helpful.

He passed by the cat-girl, and then tripped over her tail.

Shirou frowned at the now-empty silver platter, and then a the smirking woman with the strange robes who looked to be furiously chewing. Then he looked towards Sven.

"She just stole your sweet-roll!" He accused loudly.

There came a series of horrified gasps from around the room. And then Sven rose from his chair and drew his sword.

"You'll pay for that, sneak-thief!" He cried out. "The price for pastry-theft is _death_!"

"Meep!" The cat-girl meeped, then quickly dodged away. "You cannot catch Khajiit!" she taunted as she dashed outside with a cackle.

Shirou and Sven chased after her, but somehow the strange woman was already halfway towards the city games.

The magus scowled fiercely. Oh no. Nobody stole _his_ baked goods!

Trace On.

"What the, what kind of Bound Sword and Bow are those?" Someone cried out.

Shirou ignored them, and instead took sight of his target. Draw, aim, release and then...

"Ack! Khajiit has taken a sword to the knee!" The cat-girl cried out. "Who in the name of oblivion shoots _swords_?"

Sven stared hard at the stricken woman for a long time, then turned to Shirou with a winning smile.

"Say, New Guy, how would you like to join the City Guard?"

*_Meanwhile, in New Sheoth!*_

The Mad God cackled madly as He took a big bite out of his brain-pie, pointing at the scene that had unfolded in His interplanar observation circle and spraying fragments of brain and pastry in all directions.

"Did you see that?" He asked an aging man at his side. (Who was also kept in place by laffy-taffy chains.) "That was fantastic! Almost as much fun as burning zombie-dogs chasing inside-out monkeys into a pit of cheese-monsters!"

"Unleash me, you loon!" The Mad God's prisoner demanded angrily.

"Hmm..." Sheogorath pondered, stroking his beard. "Nope, too boring! We should teach the kid to shoot cheese-graters instead! Oooh, no _no_! How about... possessed teddy-bears! _Everyone_ loves fuzzy face-eating dolls!"

"Let me go, you bastard! I am the Wizard-Marshall, damn you!"

"Calm down, dear Zelly! Or I'll skip rope with your innards! I can do it too, you know! It's _great _fun!"


	24. Shirou's Beef With Epicness

**Shirou's Beef With Epicness**

I like to believe that I had long become inured to the horrors of the internet. My tutelage in the technological world had been a rocky, pain-filled ordeal that I had finally become numb to. Foolishly, I had thought that nothing could faze me. I hadn't batted an eyebrow at the man with the funny hat doing something with candles. I'd merely frowned at the woman with the feather-duster headdress and the man and the goat-costume.

I hadn't even been stopped by the one with the one-legged man, the spotlight and an entire Russian men's choir reciting lewd beat-poetry.

But this...

This was just too much.

"Oh dear gods no," I whisper, unable to look away from the otherworldly horror that was playing out in front of me. "What is he doing to that pig?"

This was a violation of the natural order, a perversion of life and death, a blight on all things right and good with the world. This was a disgusting distortion of what was otherwise a beautiful and wonderful thing. It struck a chord so deep inside of me that I had never even known it was there.

But this was different. This was worse, somehow, for all of its mundane qualities: this was not the work of supernatural entities or cosmic monstrosities. This was being done by common men. Many hands working towards a single, vile goal.

And through it all, there was That Man. Always watching. Always smiling.

"No, not more bacon!" I cried out, aghast at what I was seeing.

"Shirou?" Matus asked, confused by my sudden outburst.

I looked upon him, directing this horrific slander against one of my few joys in this world, and I know at once that I had seen my antithesis.

Even with as frightening and malevolent as Berserker, Caster and Gilgamesh had been, there were some qualities about them that earned them some reprieve from my hate: Berserker had had his madness which blinded him to reason, Caster had at least loved someone, and Gilgamesh was dead. They were not my enemies.

That Man had no such reasons. There was no madness in his eyes as he casually described what they were doing. There was no love in him save for that towards his own vile craft. And, most surprisingly of all, he wasn't dead yet. That last part was what surprised me the most.

"_That is not how you make sushi!_" I scream at the doodad in my hands.

"Shirou, what the hell is wrong with y- oh. I didn't mean to leave that on."

I whip around to face the hacker, fury and indignation in my eyes.

"Matsu." I growl out. "You know about this, this, this _filth_?"

"Well, yeah." Matsu answered, taken aback by the vehemence in my voice. "Everyone knows about Epic Meals. It's hilarious."

"You think this is funny?" I spat. "This is _cooking!_"

*_Meanwhile, somewhere in Canada!_*

A beardy man stopped in the act of bringing a bottle of Jack Daniels to his lips, and then smiled.

"Another." He rumbled out with a subtle slur. "I can feel them."

He put the bottle down, then cackled.

"Another hater! I love it!"


	25. NOLB And Now For Something Different

_Transcripted (sorta) from reality:_

_***Syroc publishes new chapter***_

**Internet:** SHOCK! ALARM! DISMAY!

**Syroc:** Oh. That was a bit more volatile than I expected. Oh well, moving on...

_***Syroc posts the forums***_

**Forums:** SHOCK! ALARM! ETC!

**Syroc:** Huh, maybe I should do something about that…

_***Syroc wanders off to write something sugary***_

* * *

**No One Left Behind - And Now For Something Completely Different**

"Ne, ne Saber-nee-chan!" Kusano said excitedly while splashing playfully at the bathwater with a yellow rubber ducky. "Can you show me your sword?"

The blonde swordswoman smiled minutely at the innocent question and paused in the act of shampooing the girl's hair to answer.

"Tomorrow, maybe," she agreed fondly before reaching over for a pail. "But not tonight."

"Fuugh," the small girl grumbled in displeasure, splashing once more. "No fair."

"Perhaps not," Saber said gently, and dipped the pale into the warm water. "But sometimes that's just the way things are. Now close your eyes and hold your nose like a good girl."

Kusano was quick to obey, and giggle happily when Saber upended the pale of water over her head. They repeated the process a few times until all of the lather had been washed away.

There was a small amount of difficulty for Saber when Kusano decided that it wasn't fair for her to have all the fun and started an impromptu one-sided splash-war. Saber, far too dignified to act in such a childish manner, merely took the assault with a small gasp of surprise but little else. She certainly did _not_ use the pale to drown Kusano in a torrent of warm water: she was merely rinsing the girl off. Any satisfaction she felt could be attributed entirely to satisfaction in a job well done.

The two lingered in the water for a while longer, but when Saber pointed out that they would look like prunes if they stayed for too long Kusano eagerly left the water.

Saber quickly dried herself off before she did the same for Kusano.

"Ne, Saber-nee-chan," Kusano began, sounding contrite. "Can we keep the meany-Sekirei with us?"

Saber paused in the act of toweling off the girl, a concerned look appearing on her face. "Why would you ask such a thing, Kusano-chan?"

"So that she doesn't have mean any more!" the girl explained innocently. "And then she can be nice, and happy, and we can play all day long!"

Saber's expression softened, and resumed drying Kusano's hair.

"We'll see what can be done," Saber told her, somewhat subdued. "Tomorrow."

"Mmm!" Kusano hummed her agreement, confident that the entirety of Izumo Inn would see the wisdom in her plan.

Saber finished drying off the young girl, playfully dumping the damp towel on top of Kusano. This elicited an indignant squawk from the girl, who struggled with the offending garment.

"Mou,"Kusano said when she at last freed herself from the towel. "That wasn't nice!"

"I'm sorry, Kusano-chan," Saber apologized with a light chuckle. "Arms up."

Kusano gave a child's glower, but obeyed.

Saber pulled one of Rin's disused shirts over Kusano to use as makeshift set of pajamas. When she was decently clothed, the young girl held her arms outwards expectantly. Saber, recognizing the universal stance that meant 'hold me!', picked her up and exited the bathroom.

"You won't be mean to me, will you Saber-nee-chan?" Kusano asked suddenly as they left, worry in her voice.

"Of course not, Kusano-chan," Saber answered warmly, and gave the small girl a hug. "I would never want to hurt you."

"Jii-" Kusano hummed happily, and wrapped her own tiny arms around Saber's shoulders. "Ku-chan knew you would't! Ku-chan and Saber-nee-chan will be together for forever and ever!"


	26. Those Dungeon Blues

**Those Dungeon Blues**

The massive constructs of stone and steel caused the ground to quake with each step as they smashed and crushed their way through the derelict laboratories of the mage Severus Kahn Il-Tiam. Each were dispatched with whirlwind of blades as Emiya Shirou stormed through them like a vengeful god of war. Behind him, Musubi and Homura dutifully dispatched other, lesser enemies.

As the silence of victory began to set in, the made mage himself appeared in torrent of shadows.

"So, you've come at last, Shirou-kun," the mad magus said with dark glee. "I've been waiting solongfor you! I was getting worried that you wouldn't make it! But I see you've brought friends as well! How wonderful! We can-"

"I cast an empowered fireball," Homura cut in, looking up from his spell-list to do so. "That should shut him up."

Uzume ceased her narration of the encounter, her lips pursing slightly in annoyance at the interruption.

"Alright," she said tersely. "Roll for damage."

Homura dutifully did so, then began calculating.

"Hrmm... 43 damage." He announced with a small amount of satisfaction. "That should hurt him."

Uzume in turn rolls her own die, and grins in sadistic satisfaction.

"Severus has a rng of evasion and makes his reflex save." Uzume answered smugly. "No damage."

"What? No way!" Homura protested loudly.

"This is so stupid." Emiya Shirou complained with a sigh. "Magic doesn't work anything like that. You can't just dodge a fireball while staying in the same place."

It had been a few days since Shirou's explanation of his strange abilities, and Izumo Inn was almost completely back to normal. 'Almost' being the operative word. Uzume had taken it upon herself to be more accepting of Shirou's more fantastical nature, and had gone out of her way to try and be accomodating.

Which apparently meant dragooning everyone into playing Dungeons and Dragons. Which would have, under even normal circumstances, been strange enough. But Uzume had also gone out of her way to craft characters and elaborate costumes for each of them.

Homura was sporting a cloak and wizard's hat, and was predictably a wizard with a bit of a fixation on fireballs and their many uses. Musubi was wearing a gi, and was a monk on a quest for a worthy opponent. Tsukiumi was cleric that insisted that she didn'treallywant to help them, but that it would be too much trouble to just let them die. Kazehana was a rogue with skimpy armor. And Shirou, predictably, was a mystic warrior with a strange penchant for swords.

Unsurprisingly, Tsukiumi and Kazehana had gotten bored quickly and left the game shortly into it. Shirou, for his part, was morbidly curious about it and had so remained.

Uzume stuck out her tongue at Shirou.

"Yeah, but your explanation was _boring_. Isn't it much more interesting this way?"

"It's just wrong. He should have just used the golems to seal the entrance and buy himself some more time while he finished his plans." Shirou pointed out.

"Well, yeah. But what kind of adventure would it be if you spent the entire encounter just digging your way into the laboratories?" Uzume asked rhetorically.

"An accurate one." Shirou deadpanned. "And besides that-"

"Musubi attacks from behind!" Musubi suddenly announced triumphantly, interrupting their quarrel.

"What?" Uzume glowers at Musubi "You're not behind him. You need to make a move action."

"Ah, but Musubi was _sneaking_! She couldn't tell Uzume, or she would have told Severus!" The shrine-maiden explained eagerly.

"But I have to roll for listen and spot checks! I can't do that if you don't tell me what you're trying to do!"

"Exactly!" Musubi said with a grin. "It's the perfect plan!"

"You can't do that!" Uzume wailed exasperatedly. "It's against the ru-"

"I cast blade barrier on Severus."Shirou interrupted yet again, causing Uzume's eye to twitch.

"For the last time, Shirou: _you don't know that spell_! You can't cast it!" She shook the rule-book at him menacingly.

"The hell I don't," Shirou countered, and a moment later a sword popped into existence next to him. "My body is made out of swords," he boasted smugly.

Uzume stared at the blade for a moment, then sighed loudly.

"Y'know what? Fine. Shirou casts blade barrier. Severus is ripped into pieces. Congratulations, you win."

"Ah? But I thought Severus was just a pawn of-" Musubi began, only to be cut off by Uzume.

"The Dark Emperor is so surprised by Severus's death that he chokes on a fish-bone," she explained with much exasperation. "His evil empire crumbles into nothing in days, and the peasants rejoice."

For a moment nobody said anything. Then Homura grinned, and removed his wizard's hat.

"Well, that was fun." He said genuinely. "We should do this again sometime."

Shirou nodded slowly, putting away his character sheet.

"Indeed," he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. "It was an... interesting experience."

"Musubi thought that Uzume is a great storyteller!"

"I hate you people," Uzume grumbled and began cleaning up the game.


	27. Blood On The Soul & Mass Production

___Transcripted (sorta) from the forums:_

**Syroc:** *_Yawns*_ I am bored. I will write some snippets. Because I am bored.

*_Shrugs out Omake*_

**Blood On The Soul**

_Snnnkt!_

The sound of metal being drawn across stone caused me to pause in the act of cleaning up the kitchen. It had taken me a long time to work my way back in, but I had at last done it. I had just finished serving a meal that had been my triumphant return to the culinary arts, and was now cleaning up after it. I had been looking forward to a few moments of peace, quiet and the relaxing mundanity of the task.

_Snnnkt!_

But something was disturbing that peace.

I folded the rag in my hand and wrung the water out of before seeking out the source of this disturbance. I wouldn't put it beyond Karasuba to start making noise just to screw with me, after all.

_Snnnkt!_

I found it outside in the garden.

Miya was kneeling in front of a whetstone, carefully pushing the blade along the stone. She bore the same serene expression that she seemed to wear constantly as she did so, exuding an aura of calm that had become anathema to Izumo Inn ever since I and my flock had taken roost there.

In the waning light of the day, the scene almost looked like it belonged in a painting more than it did in reality.

But there was something strange about all of this. It took me a moment to realize just what it was that was bothering me about this.

The 'smell' that I had come to associate with Miya, that heady mixture of sweetness and blood and crushing _regret_... it had swelled in power and was very nearly overpowering now that I had noticed it.

_Snnnkt!_

The sudden change in her 'scent' made me uneasy. It never bode well when creatures of fantastic power got remorseful.

"Did you know," Miya suddenly spoke aloud, shattering the silence. "That the samurai believed that their soul was in their blade?"

I wasn't surprised that she knew I was there, and that I was watching her. While she was far from the 'goddess' she purported herself to be, she was nevertheless a very powerful entity.

She removed the blade from the whetstone and held it up to inspect its edge against the dying light.

I get the feeling that she is waiting for me to answer her.

"Yes," I answer her, finding my own place to sit not far from her. "It had to with the way they lived and treated others."

It seemed a strange thing to bring up.

"It is a pleasant thought," Miya said, and brought the blade back down to the whetstone to resume her maintenance. "That the only thing one needs to do to rid themselves of guilt is clean their blade."

_Snnnkt!_

Ah. I suppose I could understand why she would be feeling so remorseful now. I couldn't tell whether she was feeling so remorseful because she was cleaning her blade or if she was cleaning her blade because she was remorseful, but I suppose that was beside the point.

"I don't think it works like that," I tell her cautiously, uncertain if I really wanted to dispel her beliefs like this.

"Of course it doesn't," Miya replied quietly, never once looking up from her work. "I have kept this blade perfectly stainless for years, and it makes no difference. But it is still a pleasant thought, and the effort involved brings some solace."

_Snnnkt!_

I frown slightly, wondering what exactly was expected of me in this instance. It was one of the many peculiarities of my own personality: I was distorted, as Rin had said. I was not like other people. I was simply a blade who existed to save others.

Guilt was not something I often had to deal with.

Luckily, however, Miya chose to speak again.

"I assume you are aware of my exploits," The landlady commented. "You know what I am responsible for."

_Snnnkt!_

Ah.

Yes, I suppose it made sense that she would be more than a bit remorseful about that. Not everyone had the convenient excuse of iron-hard ideals and unnatural distortion like me.

I had seen the footage of Miya's defence of Kamikura Island. The ships cloven in two by a wave of devastation. Hundreds of lives ending in moments, ripped apart by explosions or drowning in the sea. How many lives had ended that day? How many families would be forever remain broken because of what she had done?

It was no small wonder that she would feel remorse.

"You made a choice," I say earnestly, remembering the way my ideals had been tested. "You chose to save the few at the expense of the many. You had the power and the will to stop them: do you regret not doing so?"

Miya is silent for what seemed like a long time, polishing her sword carefully. And then she sighed quietly, putting her blade aside.

"No," She said with finality, and not for the first time I suspect. "I had to save the others: it was my purpose. I made my deal with the devil I knew, and now those I was supposed to protect are forced to fight against one another for the amusement of a madman. There was no other alternative."

"Yes there was," I told her bluntly, causing her to look at me sharply. But I proceed mercilessly. "You could have let it happen. You could have let them come with their guns and their soldiers and steal those in your charge. You could have let them warp and twist and destroy most of them for their own desires. You could have given up. But you didn't. And now there is a chance for them because of what you did."

The woman before me stares hard at me, lilac eyes piercing into me like needles as she searches me over for any sign of deceit. I ignore it, and continue on regardless. If I could help, however small, then I would do so.

"It is not a choice I would have made," I admit, somewhat reluctantly. "I would have tried to find a way to save everyone: you, the Sekirei, even my enemies. And if I could not..." I give a small shrug. "I would have saved as many as I could. I would not have chosen to save the Sekirei at the expense of so many lives. And in doing so, I would not have saved nearly as many of them as you did."

That was the harsh reality of my own ideal. The cold mathematics of it, the unfeeling balance that I ever strived to attain. The people that fell on that scale didn't matter: so long as my actions saved more than they killed, my course was clear. Myself, my friends, even those I hoped to save...

One life to save ten. Ten lives to save a hundred.

But not ten to save one. Not thousands to save one-hundred and seven.

I could respect Miya's decision. But I would never have done it myself, had I been in her place.

"Does that make me better or worse than you?" I ask her.

Miya stares hard at me for a moment, scrutinizing me carefully. And then she smiles wanly, and begins reassembling her sword.

"Who can know?" She retorts lightly, replacing the blade into its handle. "What's done is done," And then she smiles at me, almost shyly. "But you are a good man, Shirou-kun. I am glad that came to Izumo House, in spite of all the trouble you have caused."

Maybe it was my imagination, but for a moment I suspected there was a hint of a blush on her cheeks.

* * *

_Transcripted (sorta) from reality:_

**Syroc:** This is silly. I am still bored. I must write some more.

_*Writes some more*_

**Syroc: **Oh snap, I forgot to publish the last one!

...

_*Shrug*_ Oh well, might as well do both at once.

* * *

**Mass Production**

I'd first had the idea while Kazehana had been trying to drown me in sake. Or at least, it had seemed like she was at the time. She just kept on giving me more and more of the stuff. It had started out as an errant comment.

"Hehe, why don't you sheathe yourself in me, Shirou-kun," the elder Sekirei had propositioned lasciviously, only to be rewarded a moment later with a smack to the back of her head and a reintroduction to the Hannya mask.

Which of course had led to the thought that I myself was a sword.

Which, when I had stopped to think about it wasn't actually too far from the truth. After all, I possessed such a close affinity to swords that it allowed me to warp reality itself.

And, after a few weeks of careful experimentation, I had finally managed it. I had turned reality on its head.

"Hello," I greeted cautiously, unable to tear my eyes away from the sword in front of me.

"Hello," Emiya Shirou greeted in return pleasantly, sounding just as worried.

"... Are you really me?" I ask uncertainly.

"I think I am." The other me answered, just as uncertain. "Or maybe you're me?"

My eyebrows scrunch together in confusion.

"No, I'm pretty sure that you're me."

"Don't be stupid." Yet another Emiya Shirou interjected. "You're _both_ Shirou Emiya. That was the whole _point_ of this experiment."

I nod in agreement at this point, acquiescing to the logic.

"Yes, I suppose that's- _wait a minute!_" I shout, whipping my head to the side to stare at the other Emiya Shirou. "Where the hell did you come from?" I demand loudly.

"I made him, of course." A fourth Emiya Shirou answered, causing all of us to turn to face the new speaker.

"And where did _you_ come from?" The second Emiya Shirou complained.

"Oh, that was me." A fifth Emiya Shirou admitted, and now I was "Sorry guys, I just wanted to see if it was possible."

"Me too." A sixith and seventh Emiya Shirou likewise admitted simultaneously.

"Who keeps _making_ all of you people?" I demand wildly.

"You do, you idiot." A eighth Shirou insults me. "We're you, and you're us. Duh."

And then Gaia realized what I had done, and decided that this was simply too much crazy to be contained in one reality and the other 'me's promptly vanished.

And thank goodness, too.

I had really started to get on my nerves.


	28. A Different Kind Of Horror

**A Different Kind Of Horror**

"Good gods, how long does it _take_ to put on the uniform?"

The impudent complaint came from Benitsubasa as she impatiently paced

"It's not like she's wearing anything complex!" The pink-haired fire-cracker ranted, gesticulating wildly with both her hands. "Top! Skirt! Stockings! Haori! It should take like fifteen minutes at the _max_ to get all that on! How long has she been in there?"

Haihane looked up from her inspection of her bladed gauntlets, sensing an opportunity to tease her uppity partner.

"Impatient already, Beni-chan?" She said with a smirk. "I guess you're like a child in more ways than one."

"_Stop calling me flat, balloon-tits!"_ The other Sekirei shouted, covering her chest with both hands in embarrassment. "I'm just petite, dammit!"

The silver-haired Sekirei gave an expressive shrug, her smile widening mischievously.

"Which is just another word for flat." She agreed with a chortle, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth. Which might have looked better, had she not almost skewered her own face with the long claws attached to her gauntlet in doing so.

"Grrrgh," Benitsubasa growled, gritting her teeth. "Why are we even talking about this? The issue now is Karasuba! She's taking too long to get her stuff on!"

Haihane shrugged at this, still enjoying a laugh at her partner's expense.

"Who cares?" She asked unenthusiastically. "She's the boss-lady: she can take all the time she needs, I suppose."

"But we have a _mission!_" Benitsubasa whined, pointing at Karasuba's door. "How am I supposed to show Natsuo-sama the light if I have to stand around waiting for _her_ to get her ass in gear?"

"Well, why don't you tell her to hurry up?" Haihane asked, egging her on. "Shout at _her_ for a few minutes, yeah?"

"E, eh?" The pink-haired alien stammered, looking as if the mere notion of criticizing her superior was insane. Which, considering who that superior was, might not have been very far from the truth. "I can't do that."

"No?" Haihane asked, a smirk once again appearing on her face. "Well, if you're too much of a _little girl_ then I suppose I'll have to."

Benitsubasa watched, flabbergasted, as her counterpart stood up and knocked loudly on Karasuba's door.

"Karasuba-taichou?" She asked, careful to keep her voice respectful. "Do you think you'll be done soon?"

There was a sound that might, if the listener was feeling generous, be considered garbled mumbling from the other side of the door.

"I didn't quite get that," Haihane said, frowning. Taking care not to damage the doorhandle, Haihane opened the door and looked inside Karasuba's room. "Could you- what in the _world…?"_

The door swung open in total silence, but Haihane made no movement at all save for a drop of her jaw.

"Holy shit," She whispered, horrified at what she was witnessing.

"What?" Benitsubasa asked, suddenly intensely curious.

"What are you doing?" Karasuba shouted from inside the room, sounding almost embarrassed. "Get out of here! _Shut the door!"_

"It's, it's," The taller Sekirei stuttered, unwilling to look but incapable of turning away. "It's like staring into the heart of madness. This... this is just _wrong._"

"W, what's wrong?" Benitsubasa asked, somewhat taken aback by what she was hearing. "Hey, move over, I wanna se- _oh my god! The __eyes__! So many __eyes__! Why are they staring at me?_"

"Where did she get them all?" Haihane asked while looking skywards, almost as if imploring some higher power to descend and reveal the mystery of what they were seeing. "Surely someone would have noticed her bringing them all in. Someone would have to ask _questions!_"

"_Get out!_" Karasuba demanded desperately. "_Now_, before-"

"_That one just moved!_" Benitsubasa screamed, recoiling away from what she was seeing. "_It's moving! Oh no, please don't let it talk-_"

"Mamma," something small and child-like called out forlornly. "Mamma."

"_It talked!"_ Benisubasa cried out, pointing at the horrifying scene. "Why would she do this? _Why?_"

"What's all this commotion ab- _oh dear god in heaven what the hell happened here?_" A random passerby screamed as they poked their head into the room to see. "_Why are the walls pink?_"

It should at this point be noted that Karasuba's room was in fact _not_ filled with anything that might be considered horrific, grisly or even eldritch.

Not in the conventional sense, anyway.

It was, however, _very pink_. And filled with dolls of all shapes and sizes. There was, in fact, a large pile of them staring blindly at the doorway.

One of which happened to be able to move and talk.

"W, what all this fuss about? There's nothing wrong with liking 'Hello Kitty'!" Karasuba defended angrily, slamming her door shut with enough force to shake the entire corridor. "It's perfectly acceptable!"

"For little girls, yeah," Haihane muttered, still shook up about what she had seen. "This is that boy's fault, isn't it? That Shirou-kid? He's made you all girly-girly all of a sudden!"

"What? No! I've had that stuff for yea- I mean, _I don't know what you're talking about!_"


	29. Blatant Lies

**Blatant Lies**

Shirou worked industriously in the kitchen, savouring his victorious return after the long exile he'd endured since the whole Fraga incident. Getting Miya to allow him to resume his duties had been an uphill battle, but he'd eventually managed it.

He breathed in the smell of his sauces, and smiled with pure bliss as he noted that each one was as close to perfect as anyone was likely to get without magical aid. (And Rin's lengthy impassioned lecture on just why he was to never sully his abilities by using them for such a mundane purpose was so deeply ingrained within him that even now he was loathe to consider it.)

He took one of the pots off the burner, and would have prepared to move it into a more suitable serving dish had one of the handles not chosen that exact moment to snap off, threatening to spill the content of the pot all over the stove and ruin all the other dishes.

And that simply would not do.

Shirou, acting before thinking, quickly placed his now-free hand on the bottom of the pot to steady it, and instantly regretted doing so.

Agony lanced up through his arm as the hot metal of the pot burned away at the exposed flesh of his palm, a painful hissing sound emerging as the skin was scorched.

Shirou hastily placed the pot back on the stove, removing my hand as quickly as he could while resisting the urge to shout in pain. He frantically blew on his maimed hand even as he began to run cold water from kitchen faucet in order to better cool it down.

"Erk, what are you cooking in here, bro?" Uzume asked, stepping into the kitchen. "It smells terri- _holy crap_, what happened to your hand?"

"Ah," Shirou grunted, and removed his hand from the cool water in order to inspect the damage. It really was quite horrendous.

"Whoa," the Sekirei said, staring at the ugly burns. "That doesn't sound fun. Why'd you grab it, though?"

"And ruin dinner?" Shirou scoffed, sounding offended. "Hardly."

"But, doesn't that hurt?"

"Very much so." He answered, not sounding like it at all. "In fact, if you could get me some bandages I'd be very grateful."

"Oh," Uzume said, blinking at the request. "Of course. Sorry, didn't think of that."

"It's quite alright," Shirou said with a smile. "You were just surprised."

Uzume gave the human a strange look, but soon departed to do as she was asked. It wasn't long before she returned, however, holding a roll of gauze.

"That was quick," Shirou commented, blinking in surprise.

"I always have some nearby," Uzume explained with a smirk. "Just in case. Hold still, I don't think you can do this with only one hand."

"Not very well," the magus agreed, and held out his hand to her. "Please, if you would."

Uzume set to it, carefully and expertly wrapping the terribly wounded flesh with an ease that would have surprised anyone had they not known what her particular power was. Shirou did, but he was nevertheless impressed. He hadn't known that her abilities would lend themselves to this sort of thing so easily, though it should have been obvious.

"How come you're not screaming?" The Sekirei asked suddenly, pausing in her work. "No offense, bro, but this is pretty gruesome. I didn't think anybody other than Miya could shrug this sort of thing away."

"Pain management," Shirou explained calmly, wincing slightly as the gauze grazed against his raw flesh. "There are ways for people like me to blind ourselves to certain kinds of pain."

Shirou neglected to say that his own method was to simply ignore until it was no longer possible to do so. Self-hypnotism was all well and good, but he simply wasn't any good at it. That was the down-side of being worthless as a magus.

"Huh," Uzume grunted, and resumed her task of bandaging me up.

"Legacy of a misspent youth." Shirou said with a grin, causing Uzume to groan at the oft-repeated excuse.

"Jeez, bro, I thought you were going to stop with that!" The Sekirei complained.

"Some things are just better left unexplained," Shirou answered with a shrug. "Now hurry up, please? I need to finish dinner."

*_At Minaka's Offices!_*

"This is _serious,_ Minaka-san!" One of the well-dressed men and women on the screens of the video-conference room asserted, sounding desperate and nervous. "The things we've heard about what's going on in Shin-Tokyo are troubling, not to mention the rumours that the JSDF will mobilize soon to instate martial law!"

"I assure you, those are just rumours," Hiroto Minaka explained casually, thoroughly unflustered by the rampant doubt in his abilities. "Shin-Tokyo is completely under MBI control of Shin-Tokyo, and I have made certain arrangements with the JSDF to ensure that they do _not_ mobilize against us. And besides, even if they _do_ decide to not honour our agreements, this would not be the first time we have fended off armed forces."

There was a certain amount of uncomfortable shifting amongst the shareholders, each one not entirely comfortable with the prospect of disregarding a national army as a threat.

"But what about this psychopath we keep hearing about, this 'Ashikabi with swords'?" Someone else pressed, bringing up an old topic. "Every day we hear fresh rumours of him killing people in the streets

"Again, these are just rumours," the CEO rassured, and spun himself around in his swivel-chair. "If there were any credence in them, we would of course have apprehended the individual in question and put a stop to his reign of terror. As it is, however, we have yet to come across anyone who can prove a positive to his misdeeds."

"And what about a few days ago?" Someone else demanded, and Minaka knew just what was being hinted at even without specifics. "MBI headquarters hacked –and we've yet to hear what they were after, by the way! – and the culprit has yet to be found."

"We have a suspect, and I've dispatched my best agent to question them personally." Minaka answered with a shrug. "I expect the matter to be resolved soon."

"And the dismembered body found in that park?" Someone else asked. "The one that we still can't identify, even with our best genetics testing? What about that, Minaka?"

"Enquiries are still on-going," Minaka said with a shrug. "These things _do_ happen, however. As sad as it is, murder does happen, and we can't take the blame for the evil that lurks within all men and women."

There was a lull in the barrage of questions as everyone realized that each and every one of their complaints and suspicions had been shot down, one by one. Minaka seized on this to have his own say on the matter.

"Don't worry so much, everyone," the eccentric CEO said to the board of shareholders reassuringly, smiling beatifically as he did so. "I assure you, I have _everything_ is under control here in Shin-Tokyo. _Nothing_ bad will happen."

*_Elsewhere, At MBI HQ!_*

The commision officer stared at the unconscious form of Karasuba's latest 'suspect', amazed at the ruinous extent of his injuries.

"Whoa," He said, giving a low whistle of amazement. "What did you _do_ to him?"

"Oh, I didn't do anything to him." Karasuba negated calmly, smiling confidently. "I'm under orders to not harm suspects anymore, remember? So _of course_ I didn't hurt him."

"You didn't do this." The man repeated slowly. The words came with the deadpan of someone who doesn't believe a word of what they were hearing.

"That's right," Karasuba confirmed, "It was an accident. He tripped on the sidewalk."

"Four fingers and both his legs are broken, not to mention all the minor cuts all over him." The officer pointed out, pointing at a particularly nasty wound.

The Black Sekirei's lips pursed, obviously displeased at being questioned.

"He accidentally tripped several times." She said forcefully.

"There's _glass shards_ embedded in his face!" The man pointed out loudly, amazed that someone could.

"And then a bus hit him. Accidentally." Karasuba didn't miss a beat.

"We stopped the buses from running in the second stage!" The officer raised his voice in defense against the obvious untruth he was hearing.

Karasuba quietly glowered at the man for a moment, and then folded her arms in irritation.

"Y'know, it's a funny thing. Did you know that accidents can be considered an illness? And that they are quite contagious at this time of day?" she said meaningfully, narrowing her eyes to convey nothing but pure malevolence. "You really might want to sign this guy in, so that you don't catch a nasty case of 'accident'."

The ambivalent man needed only a second to realize what Karasuba was hinting at, and then hastily changed his tune.

"... So, he tripped?" He asked quickly, eager to not sound like he was being a problem to one of the most terrifying women in the city.

"That's right," Karasuba confirmed, nodding with satisfaction. "It was an accident. He was very unlucky."

"Sounds like it," The man muttered under his breath. "I'll get the med-staff to look in on him when they have the time. Just, just try not to cause any more 'accidents'!"

"Of course," Karasuba agreed, smiling like a cat. "I would never _dream_ of it."

*_Back At Izumo House!_*

_Snnnnkt!_

Musubi watched with some concern as Miya carefully sharpened and polished her katana's blade with almost religious diligence, pausing every so often to

"Err, Landlady-sempai?" The normally bouncy Sekirei asked, sounding hesitant. "Is everything alright? You've been doing that for a few hours now..."

She trailed off nervously as Miya continued her work without sparing her a glance.

"Sword maintenance is paramount for a swordsman, Musubi-chan," the landlady said without emotion, pushing the blade along the whetstone once more in a slow, smooth motion. "I wouldn't dream of neglecting my duties."

"But Musubi's never seen you actually _use_ your sword before, landlady-sempai!" Musubi elaborated, sounding more worried than before.

_Snnnnkt!_

"Just because I have not used the blade does not mean it does not need to be cleaned and sharpened," Miya explained calmly, still not looking up from her task. "It might be damaged through disuse, after all."

Miya once again carefully inspected the blade, nodded in satisfaction and then began the process of reassembling the blade.

"Well, if you say so," Musubi said, sounding doubtful. "So long as you're sure everything's alright."

"Of course I'm sure, Musubi-chan," Asama Miya said, and smiled that little smile of hers. "I am perfectly fine."

_*Meanwhile,_ _In England!_*

Tohsaka Rin looked up from her notes and the massive tome that claimed to be able to make the art of learning ancient, dead languages easier (Rin had so far accused the author of being a liar several times just that day, however,) to see a steaming cup of tea sitting invitingly in front of her, beckoning to her to leave behind dull and dry studies in favour of sweet drinks and pleasant conversation with her lover...

... Who was looking her over with a frown of concern, her arms folded across her chest.

"You've been cursing that book for over an hour, Rin," She said, not unkindly. "Perhaps it's time for a break. All this work can't be good for you."

"I have to finish this report," the little magus pointed out. "If it's not due by next week-"

"Then you'll just have to drop that class on Aramaic that you took on not long ago. Or maybe Sanskrit. Or Advanced Runic Artifice. Or-"

"Alright, I get the point," Rin grumbled dourly, and sighed heavily. "I might have put a bitten off a bit more than I could chew."

"Might have?" Saber repeated, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Don't push it," the magus warned, and pushed the aged book away in favour of tea. "I'm not in the mood."

Saber smiled ever so slightly, and took a chair not far away in order to enjoy her own cup of tea.

"I wouldn't dream of it, master," She assured smugly, leaning back into her chair.

"Oh, I bet you wouldn't,"Rin grumbled darkly, and took a sip from her tea. Her face scrunched up in distaste almost instantly, and she pushed the cup away from her with a quickness.

"Shirou could you pass me the-" She started and suddenly stopped, realizing her mistake. There was an audible shift in gears as she reformulated her thoughts. "S, Saber, could you-"

"Of course, Rin," Saber said, passing over the sugarbowl without waiting for her Master to finish.

Silence reigned for a what seemed like an eternity, before suddenly Rin had had enough.

And then she exploded.

"W, who cares about that blockhead?" Rin fumed, crumbling up her notes in one hand while shaking her teacup at Saber (and mysteriously not spilling a drop of its contents). "Stupid idiot brought this on himself! My only regret is that he isn't here so that I can smack that stupid head of his!"

"Of course," Saber agreed calmly, and sipped at her tea.

"Who'd want to give up all of this," She gestured toward their modest apartment wildly, trying to make it seem more than it was. "Just to chase after some boy?"

"Who indeed?" The blonde swordswoman echoed.

Rin frowned at her companion, secretly suspecting that there was something mutinous about the way she being so agreeable.

"The only thing I miss about him is his tea," Rin said with finality, and drank heavily from her cup. "Earl Grey just isn't the same."

"Naturally," Saber said, and smiled knowingly. "Just the tea."

"I don't need him," Rin grumbled, burrowing herself back into her well-stuffed chair. "He's just my stupid apprentice."

Silence returned as both women stubbornly refused to address the real issue that was bothering them. Each of them merely stared deeply into their cups, neither willing to speak before the other.

"This tea is really bad," Rin eventually said, putting her cup down. She sounded almost forlorn, but anybody who dared to point this out would soon find themselves on the wrong side of a Gandr. "I should finish that report."


	30. Extra Ham

**Extra Ham**

Today was a very special day.

It was the Elite Mook School Class of 2017 Reunion, and seeing as many of the class was currently employed by MBI, it made sense that Minaka had granted them the use of one of the many lavishly decorated meeting rooms of the MBI headquarters.

Things had been going well so far, with much reminiscing, pleasant conversation and a heaping helping of alcohol. There were few things that couldn't be helped along by a few cups of heavily fortified punch.

But then something strange happened.

"Impromptu Door Entry!" someone outside shouted.

"What the hell was- _AARGH MY FACE_!"

The last bit came out with a bellow of pain as a nearby wall was riddled with so many swords that it fell inwards just in time for someone to leap through the newly created hole and deliver a vicious round-house kick to some random guy, who then rocketed away and landed in an unconscious heap.

"Holy crap!" the assortment of Elite Mooks bellowed in surprise as they watched someone casually plow through their wall and instantly "Wait, who the hell are you?"

"I'm glad you asked!" the newcomer shouted enthusiastically, and struck a pose. It seemed to be a complete coincidence that his pose struck a charging mook squarely in the jaw, lifting him off his feet and into the air. Unfazed by this, the stranger continued. "I am **Emiya Shirou: Gentleman Adventurer**!

"What the- how did he make his voice have bold text?" one of the mooks asked with bewilderment.

"Never mind that, how can we see his words?" someone else shouted.

"Simple!" Emiya Shirou bellowed, and made an errant backhand that instantly knocked out someone that had been trying to sneak up on him. "Not long ago I was kidnapped by a religious order of bad-asses so that they could teach me their ways! Ever since then I have been unable to speak without shouting or say my name in any other way! Now stand aside: I must confront Hiroto Minaka in single combat and defeat him!"

Silence met his explanation as everyone present simply _stared_, unable to compose themselves. But then the storm was unleashed.

"What?"

"Are you stupid?"

"What the hell is this guy smoking?"

"Did anyone remember to bring their gun? Because I think we're allowed to shoot crackheads."

Emiya Shirou puffed out his chest, and his face when from happily heroic to stormy and offended. Almost as one, all of the elite mooks took a step back.

"Fools!" He cried out in a manner carefully designed to sound theatrically dramatic. And thoroughly terrifying. "You dare doubt and impede **Emiya Shirou: Gentleman Adventurer**? You will pay the price for your hubris! _I am the bone of my sword!_"

_*Elsewhere in the MBI building!*_

"Aha!" Hiroto Minaka laughed triumphantly as he pointed wildly at his monitor. "_That's_ my boy! I _knew_ that all he needed as an abduction and a quick brainwash to sort him out! Aha_haha!_"

The various technicians and personnel inside the MBI security station cringed a bit at Minaka's maniacal laugh. It was _really_ good, after all. Frighteningly so, in fact, especially to those who knew that Minaka devoted an hour a day to practicing on it.

"Uhm, sir?" a lowly security officer hesitantly tried to gain his attention. "Shouldn't we help them out? I mean, they _are_ our elite mooks."

"What?" Minaka snapped out of his mania haze long enough to level the lowly technician a dismissive glance. "Oh, no. Those are just the third tier guys. We still have second and first to go, and then the Disciplinary squad. We've got _loads_ of time."

"Yeah, about that," the technician began, visibly worried. "It turns out that your son can shoot swords at people. From out of thin air. All our mooks are gone."

"Eh?" Minaka raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. "Are you serious?"

"We've got it on tape, sir," one of the other technicians confirmed.

"Hrrmm, we should probably do something to stop that," Minaka mused, and rubbed his chin. "How about we send in those weird shark-dog things we've been playing around with? Oooh, and those little android midgets with guns on their arms! And the exploding robo-hedgehogs!"

"Uhm, sir? We don't actually have those," someone reported apprehensively.

"Yeah, Takami put the kibosh on those projects before they ever went into development," the first technician explained. "She said they were a waste of time."

"What? Even the hedgehogs?" a round of nods confirmed it. Minaka was crestfallen. "Well... I guess we should send in the Disciplinary Squad, then."

"Yessir! We'll get Karasuba right on that!"

*_A Few Moments Later!*_

Hiroto Minaka nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard someone shout "Impromptu Door Entry!" and a nearby wall fell inwards, nearly crushing him in the process.

This greatly distressed Minaka, and understandably so.

"What the- oh _come on!_" he complained, throwing his hands wide in exasperation. "There was a door _right_ _there_! There was no need for you to break down the wall!"

"I apologize for the damage done to your wall, but this was the most expedient method of entry!"

"Most expedient-" Minaka repeated, flabbergasted. "Are you kidding?"

"Never! I am always deadly serious!"

"Jeez, first no robots and now some weird guy is-" Minaka focused for a moment. "Hold on, is that you Shirou?"

"But of course!" the young man "It is I, **Emiya Shirou: Gentleman Adventurer**!"

"Didn't I send the Disciplinary Squad after you?"

"Hah!" Shirou didn't quite laugh: he just said 'hah' very loudly. "You almost had me, but you made a fatal mistake in sending out your Disciplinary Squad! No woman can resist the charm of **Emiya Shirou: Gentleman Adventurer**!"

As if to demonstrate this fact, a pair of panties suddenly flew in from the other room to land on Shirou's head, where it was completely ignored by the young man. Minaka noted with some concern that they sported a 'Hello Kitty' logo on them.

When a tie soon followed, coupled with a hasty "call me!" from a voice that sounded suspiciously like that of Natsuo Ichinomi, that concern turned to worry.

"And neither can any man!" Shirou boasted with a smirk.

Minaka watched this with an impassive expression and then he shook his head in despair.

"What have I done?" he asked rhetorically, perfectly aware of just that. He looked skywards and shook a fist to the heavens. "I've created a monster!"

And then he shrugged, reached behind him and pulled out a suspiciously futuristic pistol and promptly shot Shirou.

"Oh well," the scientist said without the slightest amount of guilt for randomly killing his own son. "Guess I'll just hafta start over with Yukari."

"Hah!" Shirou shout/laughed once again, louder than before. "I will not allow you to do such a thing to my dear sister and sidekick!"

"What the- I just _shot _you!" Minaka accused.

Shirou nodded gravely, folding his arms across his chest.

"Yes!" he agreed. And then he smiled, and somehow the light reflected off the surface of his teeth with such a radiance that several nearby hapless technicians were blinded. "Luckily, however, I was able to block the bullets with my face!"

"_Luckily?_"

"Indeed! After days of having my face smashed in with cinderblocks by a particularly belligerent monk I learned to instantly turn my body into blades at the merest hint of danger!"

"What?" Minaka sputtered, utter disbelief plain on his face. "How is that even possible?"

"Magic!"

For a brief moment, Minaka could only stare dumbly at his son. And then something clicked, and he realized that there really wasn't any victory to be had against this kind of crazy.

He sighed, then raised his hands in surrender.

"If I just give up and don't resist, will you stop shouting at me?"

And that was how Shirou Emiya: Gentleman Adventurer saved Shin-Tokyo.

The End


	31. Omake Olympics: HORROR!

A word of warning: this might not be your thing. It's definitely not mine.

* * *

_Transcripted (Sorta) From The Forums_

**SatireSwift**: Move over, you old fossil! There's a new king here!

**Syroc**: The funk?

**sagitarius**: Hoy! Seniority, punk! That crown is mine!

**Syroc**: I'm still here, y'know!

**SatireSwift**: Don't make me cut you, fish!

*_Much bickering later_*

**Syroc**: This is silly. There has to be a better way to go about this. *_Watches The Hunger Games_* You guys! I just had this great idea!

- And that was how the Omake Olympics were started -

* * *

**Seeds**

Something in the air caused me to pause, a subtle shift in the nigh-omnipresent sweetness tainted by subtle notes of other scents that I had come to associate with the Sekirei.

This was different. It wasn't sweet, it was... difficult to describe.

Well, no. It was _easy_ to describe. But there was just so _many_ things that could be said about it, and that was where the difficulty set it. There were just too many recognizable qualities about it.

It was the stink of old sweat on hot flesh.

It was like days of filth left unwashed, baking under a searing sun.

It was the heavy musk of sex, so thick that it made me uncomfortable.

It was blood, ancient and putrefied so badly that it actually caused me to gag.

It was like everything that I might associate with a human that had decided to do away with all the niceties and pretence of personal hygiene, but a thousand times worse.

And it was _everywhere_. How such a thing could be possible without any sort of overtly magical effects was

People surged past me on either side, the hustle and bustle of the Shin-Tokyo shopping district busy even during the MBI lockdown of the city. Commerce continued and in some cases even flourished despite the menace of the Sekirei Plan and what it entailed beginning to sink in. Maybe it was the sense of helplessness that made everyone yearn for a sense of normalcy that came from simply going out to their favourite stores to pick out something nice. Maybe people simply felt like getting rid of a bit of their disposable income.

I myself was one such person: as fond as I was of my wardrobe, all the fighting that had been going on was wreaking havoc on the limited amount of clothing that was available to me. The inevitable had finally happened this morning when I had realized that simply had no clean shirts that didn't have a tear in them. And while I was fond of them, I didn't exactly want my flock crowding me as I searched for some shirts to replace those that had been destroyed.

Matsu in particular. While I was certain that she was aware of the danger that being in public present, I was equally aware of the hijinks that a dressing room and good timing could create. It was a risk I wasn't prepared to take today. Better all-around to just get what I needed quickly and have done with it.

But I hadn't been expecting to find _this_ once I had arrived.

Confused, I sniff at the air once more, trying to find the source of this strange magic. I realized that the task set before me would be a difficult one, but that had hardly stopped me before.

And it wouldn't stop me here, either. I had to find the source of this anomaly as soon as possible, as I had little doubt that whoever had created this bounded field had not done so simply to confuse itinerant magi. There was a purpose to this magic, a reason. And I knew enough about the practices of my fellow magi to be wary of any magic that smelled this bad.

I pushed through the crowd, breathing deeply as I did. A few people looked at me askance, but soon lost interest in me and went on their business. After all, there wasn't anything _too_ strange about what I was doing. And I _did_ make sure to apologize when such was warranted.

In fact, I was in the process of doing just that when I at last spotted it.

Him.

No, _it_. There was no way _it_ could be human.

It crouched in the darkness of an empty alleyway with a pair of mismatched eyes, one a bright yellow and the other a deep, vibrant red that watched the world rush past it with a vacant stare. That alone gave me reason to pause, as I had rarely seen eyes of either colour before. To see the two there on one face was more than a little disconcerting, but that was just about the only thing that looked even remotely worrying.

It was completely naked, its skin an unnatural motley of pale yellows, pinkish-reds and dark browns that appeared across its body with no pattern at all. It looked for all the world like some kind of diseased ragdoll-parody of a human, made up from scraps and pieces left behind from others and then inflicted with all manner of illnesses.

It was also kind of scrawny. Emaciated, even. In fact, If not for the reek of magic or the other worrying things about it, I might even have felt sorry for the thing. It was obvious that it was starving.

But the strangest aspect of all of this was the way nobody seemed to notice it there in.

Nobody turned and screamed at the naked monster with its skeletal frame, mismatched eyes and its stark inhumanity.

As if sensing my scrutiny it suddenly snapped its head in my direction, instantly finding and locking eyes with me. I froze, suddenly realizing that looking intensely at a creature that smelled so strongly of magic was a very bad idea as it paralyzed me where I stood in the moment we cross eyes.

It remained still for only a moment, watching me and then it stirred. It unfolded from its low crouch to stand fully erect, never once removing its gaze from me. And then in a blur of movement that did not seem possible from something human-shaped, it stood before me, uncomfortably close. Its face was mere inches away from my own, and though I looked down on it that didn't seem to intimidate it in the slightest.

"Hello," the blotchy-skinned creature greeted me. It opened his mouth in a parody of a smile, revealing a yellowed set of worn and broken teeth.

The iron grip on my will loosened, allowing me to regain my composure.

"What do you want?" I demand coolly, not allowing myself to show any of the apprehension I felt.

"What do _I_ want?" the smile widened, turning hungry. "I do not know yet. What do _you_ want? It was _you_ who sought _me_, after all."

"I didn't come looking for-" I started, but never had the chance to finish.

One of those skeletal hands snapped upwards to my cheek in a gesture that might have been a loving caress from someone else. But the moment it did, its od flowed into me like a torrent of filth and bile, causing me to once more freeze, this time in an effort to resist the intrusion.

"Don't waste our time together, dear child," it whispered softly. "Tell me what you want, and I might give it to you."

I opened my mouth, initially to protest or shout or... _something_. I just wanted to be free of the thing's vile touch and the corruption of its od. But the words somehow changed in my throat into something I had never intended.

"I wanted to make certain you were no threat to anyone," I answer, my voice sounding strangely hollow even to my ears.

"You want to protect others from me?" it repeated slowly, and its smile turned feral and hungry. "How very... admirable," it almost seemed to purr.

It withdrew its od, and I once again relaxed somewhat as my body was allowed a reprieve from this creature's influence.

"What do you want?" I demand warily, by now realizing just how precarious a situation I was in. Twice now it had seized control of me without so showing so much of an ounce of effort. I wasn't about to give a reason to try a third time. "Why are you here? What do you want?"

"Oh, don't worry about _me_. I don't want to hurt anybody. Especially not _you_," it said reassuringly, and stroked my cheek again. "I'm here to help you."

"Help me?" I ask, surprised at what I was hearing.

It nodded excitedly, a mad grin appearing on its lips.

"Oh _yes_," it agreed eagerly. "I can sense something wonderful in you, and I want to nurture it."

Its hand traced its way from my cheek downwards, first along my neck and then resting on my chest.

"I want to complete you," and then that smile full of hunger and ruined teeth changed subtly into a leer of almost perverse desire.

I am confused by that statement, and I make as if to question it but am soon prevented from doing so as it closes its eyes and opens its mouth.

"_The potter has the right over clay,_" it chanted softly, and the pressure on my chest from its hand increases almost painfully. "_To make of it as he will: Transfiguration!"_

Almost at once its hand sank into me, my flesh providing no more a barrier to its entry than wet clay might have. I felt it pass through my skin, muscles and then deeper inside of me in places I should not be aware of like a cold presence, icy fingers against my heart, lungs and oesophagus. It was buried inside of me up to the wrist, every movement of the hand inside of me causing its arm to move in turn, and the inability to see what was going on seemed to exaggerate these small movements.

I wanted to scream with pain as those frigid fingers seemed to touch me in ways that should not be possible, but something prevented me from doing so. There was an iron grip upon my mind and body, one that tore through even my formidable magical resistance. One that prevented me from crying out for help to any of the multitudes that passed by us, all of them blind to what was happening to me.

And then it sharply yanked its hand out, tearing through ligaments and muscle and skin as it left me.

As it did, I couldn't help but notice that its hand was cupped and filled with a dark red substance. A familiar red.

And then I knew what this thing was.

It was a Dead Apostle, and quite likely an Ancestor.

"Heart-blood," it confirms, and winks at me knowingly. "Much better than the jugular."

It leaned forward, bringing its lips down to its wrist and then carefully tilted its hand upward, eagerly drinking down the red liquid. It slurped down my blood eagerly, even going so far as to lick at its hand with a blotchy tongue.

The world around me suddenly bloomed intensely with impossible light and vibrancy: colours flared violently, threatening to blind me with their brightness. My eyes burned with the effort of trying to pick out details, the pain of it lancing deep into my skull.

I felt drunk and tired and feverish and starved and all of the various maladies that it was possible for a human mind to feel. I wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep this terrible illness away, maybe even forget that I had ever been here. It was a struggle to just keep myself standing there: anything else just seemed like an impossible endeavour doomed to failure.

I obviously couldn't keep the effort from showing, as the thing in front of me paused in the act of feeding to study me. Red and yellow eyes narrowed on me as the ancient mind behind them seemed to dissect me like some kind of new insect it had discovered.

Then it snickered gleefully and scampered back into the shadows it had been lurking in before I had found it, beckoning for me to follow.

"Walk with me, Emiya Shirou of Fuyuki!" it called out to me as it vanished into the gloom.

I suddenly felt like a puppet, strings attached to each of my limbs pulling me forward into a shambling, staggering lurch as I followed this creature deeper into its alleyway. My head was heavy and ungainly as I moved, my body suddenly impossibly clumsy.

As I entered the darkness between the buildings I felt a growing pressure that I hadn't even been aware of leave me, and some of the sickly dizziness left me. My strength grew, and with it my gait became less like a dead man's shuffle and more like my normal stride. There was still a great deal of awkwardness there, but I used my newfound strength and resolve to fight against the pull on my body that drew me further into the gloom.

Ahead of me, the creature bent down and lifted a manhole-cover loose from the street. It tossed the metal disk away, heedless of the thunderous _'clang_' of metal.

"Come along then, we haven't got all day," It warned me, and without warning it hopped into the hole and vanished.

Limping along with uncertain feet I followed, albeit a bit slower due to the strange weakness that had befallen me. I paused for only a moment at the edge of the manhole before I felt compelled to climb in. Taking care not to let my dizziness hamper me, I slowly climbed downwards into the sewers of Shin-Tokyo.

The stink of the tunnels hit me like a physical force, the horrific stench of filth and fetid water pervading past the scent that the monster with the mismatched eyes was exuding. It filled me with a powerful nausea, but I in spite of my reservations I plunged myself into the darkness of that narrow enclosure.

And as I did, I felt that horrible haze on my mind lifting somewhat. I was almost glad when I reached the bottom of the ladder and was plunged into almost complete darkness, as by then I felt almost normal. In fact, aside from the pull on my body that beckoned to me.

Cautiously, I walked into that endless well of darkness with only my hand on the wall and my wary footsteps as my guides. I could see nothing here: just the inky blackness all around me, and the lonely shaft of light that now seemed so very far away.

Without warning, hands latched onto me and pulled me forward, a chorus of giggles sounding as I was forced along. I struggle against them in my panic, but I soon realized that there were more than just two. It felt like everywhere it was possible to grab a hold onto had a hand there, dragging me further into the darkness.

Even with the gloom, though, I could make out certain features. Eyes, countless pairs of them, stared at me even as toothy smiles reflected the dim light that was rapidly disappearing as they forced me along. They were deaf to my protests, merely dragging me along with nothing more than their strange smiles and unblinking eyes. They ignored my desperate struggle to free myself.

They never even noticed when I called to mind a blade and sent it flying into the eyes of one of their number. The sound of something hitting the ground and then splashing quietly into the dank waters of these darkened sewers were the only things that hinted at what I had done.

They didn't seem to care that one of their number was now dead: no, that was wrong. They were _amused_! I could see the widening of their smiles, hear the quiet giggles.

They pulled me to the side suddenly, and into a darkened room lit by a single oil lamp. Grey cement, worn and stained and ugly from long neglect was hidden from view by a vast multitude of men and women that watched me with hungry eyes. They all wore the same expression, a mixture of lust and depravation that reminded me uncomfortably of the creature that had brought me here in the first place.

And in the centre of it all, sitting across what looked like a throne made from living men and women, was the disgusting creature that had enthralled me. A beautiful young woman was kissing its neck passionately, obviously unbothered by its filthy state. It leers over at me as I enter the room

"Hello again," the creature greeted me, and pushed the young woman away from him without regard to her quiet protest. She sat forlornly by his feet, eyes downcast. "Welcome to my home: make yourself comfortable."

I heard the rustle of chains and then felt manacles on my wrists. A moment later the hands that restrained me let go, and I stood alone in the face of this room full hungry monsters. I struggle against my bonds for only a moment before giving up, the hope of escape not being a very strong one at the moment.

Instead, I focus on the creature before me.

And it calmly regards me as well while fondling its own chest. It smiles as my expression twists into one of disgust, obviously pleased with itself.

Neither of us spoke for a long time, and the only sounds to be heard were those of the assortment of Apostles as they shifted and whispered amongst themselves.

"_What do you want?"_

The whisper of a question echoes through my mind, and I cannot help but wonder what this Apostle wants with me.

"Who are you?" I ask at last, unwilling to wait any longer for whatever it was it had in store for me. "Why did you take me here? What do you want from me?"

The creature leered at me, and rose from its fleshy throne. As he did so I realized that the writhing bodies that he had been resting on hadn't just arranged themselves in such a manner for his pleasure. No, they were actually _fused together_, their bodies shifting seamlessly from one to the other into a grisly parody of life. As one writhed in pain of shifted under the weight of the others their fused flesh would tear and bleed. They groaned with relief as the Apostle stood, and quivered with ecstasy as their skin reknit itself with alarming speed.

It calmly strides up to me, once more putting itself uncomfortably close. Its mismatched eyes twinkle merrily as it casually invades my personal space.

"Those sheep in black have a name for me," its hand came to rest on my cheek. "Do you want to know what it is? Of course you do, you asked me after all."

It danced away from me, spinning itself around as it did.

"They call me the Seed of Sodom," it told me, and ran a hand through my hair. Those mismatched eyes seemed to shine with happy glee. "And they tell all _sorts_ of stories about me these days."

It smiled beatifically, but its gruesome features turned the expression into something sinister. It left me with the impression that nothing good or pure could ever stay that way for long in his presence.

"And those old fossils, they call me the Patriarch," it rose from its fleshy throne and approached me

"But since we're so close, _you_ can call me Bera," he confided happily, and stroked my cheek. "That's one thing the sheep will got right about me."

His fingers dug painfully into my flesh suddenly, clawing shallow furrows through my skin.

"They saw my precious children and how I loved them, and thought me perverse," the dull lamplight flickered for a moment, but it was enough to mask the change from smile to a furious snarl. "But I care little for such base pleasures!"

It withdrew slowly, casting a lingering gaze on me for as long as it could.

"What I desire most is not sexual in nature," Bera confided earnestly, and at last turned away to face the crowd of vampires all around us.

"It is in a father who loved his first-born daughter taking up his sword and making her scream like the whore she is."

One of the crowd chuckled darkly.

"It is one brother flaying the skin from brother while the other pleads for mercy," Bera continued happily.

Someone else giggles manically, and I notice with some discomfort that he appears to be wearing a leather jacket.

"A wife devouring her husband alive. It is the priest that happily leads his faithful past the point of any redemption. It is child burns her beloved pet in the fireplace," he no longer pauses with each recollection, instead running through each of them with more speed as he grows more excited.

He whirls back to face me, and that terrible smile returned as the creature took perverse pleasure in its recollection.

"And for every second of it, _wanting_ it!" Bera laughed again, and all around me the faceless crowd of vampires echoed it.

"What I love is the _change_, the metamorphosis!" Bera shouted, and his voice was deafeningly loud in the enclosed space.

"_**What I want,**__" _an echo within me whispered, its voice like a deep and gravelly and dark as an endless well of shadows. I was an alien voice, but one infinitely familiar to me in ways I could not understand. _"__**Is to look upon something good and pure, and then twist it to my desire. To see silver rust, clean water turn to black oil, a lover change into a killer. The beauty of an existence, transfigured into something unrecognizable.**__"_

My eyes widen as I realize that I was no longer alone in my own body: this creature was already trying to warp me into something I was not. It was trying to me transfigure me.

"I want to see you stain yourself," Bera explained smugly, still leering at me. "And in doing so become more than you ever could have hoped to be."

"_What do you want?"_

Again the whisper echoes out, but this time I ignore it.

Bera giggles to himself at some unknowable joke, and then without warning he throws himself back on his fleshy throne, laughing uproariously as the many hapless individuals that made it screamed as their flesh tore under his weight.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask, my mind still reeling at all of this.

"Because I want to help you," Bera answers happily without a moment's hesitation.

I would have tried to find out just how he planned on 'helping' me, but in that moment I hear a female shriek of alarm.

"_Is that a dead body?"_ it asks shrilly, and I realized that she must be coming the same way I had moments before. Her voice echoes and rebounds across the walls, allowing us all to hear her perfectly. "_Onii-chan, where are you taking me?_"

"_Don't worry, it's a fun place!"_ a male voice, presumably the first speaker's brother, answered. "_And that thing is a total fake. Couldn't you tell? Where would anyone get a sword like that, anyways?_"

"_Well,"_ the woman says uncertainly, and then she and her brother enter the room. "If you say so."

Everyone levels the newcomers a curious stare, though mine was more uncertain than anything else. This new development isn't exactly inspiring, after all.

"And who is _this_?" Bera asks, eager and curious. For a moment it sounds like a child with a new toy, and that makes it all the more terrible. "What have you brought me, child-of-mine?"

"Our younger sister," the vampire answers with an eager grin of its own.

"Onii-san, what's going on?" the young woman asked. "Who is the weirdo? Why did you take me here?"

"Ahh, family! I _love_ meeting family!" Bera claps his hands happily merrily. And then his smile turns feral and sadistic, those mismatched eyes twinkling with malice. "And what do you want to do to her?"

"Do to... me?" she asked, eyes turning wide with sudden apprehension. "Onii-san, what is this freak talking about?"

"I want to cut out her tongue," the young man said, ignoring his sister's question. "And then drink the blood from her mouth."

"W, _what?_" she gasped, and struggled to free herself from the young man's grasp. She tried to yank her hand away, but her brother's grip was like iron.

Bera giggled, smiling maniacally.

"Then do it!" He ordered in between laughs.

"No!" I cried out, unable to keep silent any longer.

"No?" Bera asked, looking over at me with playful curiosity. "And what do _you_ want to do to her?"

"Nothing! I want her to be safe!" the answer leaps from my mouth without hesitation and with utter conviction.

"Nothing? Safe?" Bera seemed confused at the notion, and then made an expression of extreme distaste. "How boring. You should be glad that I want to help you, or I would punish you for such paltry, hollow desires."

He nods to the young man, done with me.

"Continue," he orders calmly, and then settles back to watch the grisly act with a grin on his face.

"No!" I snarl hatefully, railing against my chains. "I won't allow this! _I am the bone of my Sword!_"

Bera twisted around to face me once more, his eyes wide with surprise and alarm as a vast multitude of blades appeared at my side, each one of them hovering in the air for only a brief moment before rocketing forwards with deadly purpose. His mouth turns upward into a bizarre leer of delight as the first blade pierces his narrow chest, and stayed there even as he was impaled time and time again.

The only sound to be heard over the terrified screams of the young woman and flesh being ripped apart was the gurgling laughter of Bera as he staggered backwards from my onslaught. Eventually it stops as Bera was reduced to a pile of wet meat, pierced by an impossible array of weaponry. Still the screaming continues, however, as the young woman tries desperately to escape this nightmare realm below the city she had known so well.

For a moment I take satisfaction in what I had done.

And then Bera laughed.

Not the corpse that I had created seconds ago, but someone else.

"Eheh," the young man gives out a small chuckle, and from behind me I hear the laugh echoed by those who bind me. He then bends over and yanks one of my swords from the Apostle's ruined corpse. He leers over at me, and I note with some alarm that his eyes are mismatched yellow and red. "You did not really think that I resided only in that rotting piece of meat, did you? The Seed of Sodom is not planted in the earth, but in the flesh of man."

In that moment I realize just why Bera and this vampire had seemed so similar: they were _both_ Bera. They were all seeds, their existences warped by his until they were merely another facet of _him_. They killed themselves and everything around them with each debasement, and with each one _his_ presence became stronger. Many bodies, many faces, many minds: a single soul, growing in all of them. A single seed growing in many directions.

I try to force my od outwards once more, to put an end to this horrific nightmare-world that lurked below Shin-Tokyo. But something stopped me. Somehow I found myself unable to form even the most basic of blades: the memories just would not come, my circuits refused to produce even a percentage of a unit of prana.

Bera smirks knowingly at me, and holds my sword for inspection.

"You make such wonderful toys, Emiya Shirou," he compliments me.

Without warning he grabs his sister by the throat, and plunges the blade into her mouth as she makes to scream fear. There is a brief keening of pain before it is quickly replaced by a wet gargle that can only have meant that her mouth was filling up with blood. Her eyes spin frantically in their sockets as the beast that had once been her brother savoured in pain.

"They all lived such hollow lives before I gave them my special Seed," Bera explained mournfully, staring deeply into the young woman's eyes. He slowly pulls the blade free, and lets it fall to the ground with a loud_'clang'._ "Now they live with me, forever! We're never alone anymore!"

He pulls the young woman close and forces her mouth open with his own. A sound like muffled screaming issues forth into the dark stillness of the sewers. Blood splashes and drips out of their mouths as Bera drinks greedily from her mouth.

And then Bera pushes the young woman away, and a horrific tearing noise follows with it. Something pink and bloody hangs limply from his mouth as they part, and I don't need to think very long to realize just what it was. He watched me carefully as he sucked the piece of meat into his mouth and swallowed heavily, obviously savouring the look of utter disgust on my face as he did.

Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, he leers over at me once again.

"The Seed of Sodom grows from the heart, and the fruit it bears is corruption," Bera explained casually even as he let the maimed woman drop to the ground, sobbing. "All it needs to grow is a little tender love and care," he snickers, and kicks at the prone woman at his feet. "And blood. Lots and lots of blood."

I can only stare at Bera, my eyes wide.

"Why are you doing this?" I ask hollowly, uncomprehending all of this senseless cruelty.

I had seen evil before. Kotomine Kirei and Gilgamesh had been bad people, true. But there had been a rhyme and reason to it. Even subtlety. They weren't needless or pointlessly evil. They were fulfilling a knowable desire. Even the Dead Apostles I had joined in on the hunt for could in some way be understood. They weren't _quite_ fully detached from humanity.

Bera was different. I wasn't certain how I could tell, but without confirmation I simply _knew_ that he wasn't bound by any kind of social or natural law. If there was something he wanted, he took it. If he wanted to do something, he did it. No matter how horrific or deplorable it was. He attached no more importance to his fellow man than he did to a dog.

And that was something I just couldn't understand.

Bera was different. He was a monster.

"I already told you, my child," Bera said soothingly. "I want to help you. I want to make you stronger. What do _you_ want?"

"_What do you want?"_

I hear the question, and I at last realize that the question does not originate within me, but from the monster in front of me.

"Let me go," I asked, and Bera grins widely.

"But of course, dear child," he agrees happily. "Anything for you."

"_Anything for you_," the many Seeds around me echoes, followed by hushed laughter.

Something rustles behind me, and it is soon followed by the rustling of chains. And then I stagger forward, the manacles around my wrist surprised at the ease with which I had been released.

"_What do you want?_"

Again the innocent question, and I answer without quite being aware of it.

"I want to kill these abominations," I hiss out as an answer.

Bera's eyes widen in surprise as he recoils from me, but he soon recovers his composure.

"That wasn't quite what I'd hoped for," he admitted, and then shrugged. "But that could interesting too, I suppose. Would you like us to resist?"

Something was terribly wrong about this. Monsters weren't supposed to calmly face their deaths like this. They weren't even supposed to acknowledge the _possibility_. Why would they just offer themselves up like this?

"_What do you want?_"

"No," I answer without hesitation. "Just die."

Bera smiled beatifically and nodded.

"Very well then. I hope you don't mind if we help, do you?" He asked, and without warning he moved.

He made a wild swipe with his hand to the side, latching onto one of the other Seeds by the neck.

"After all, we _only_ want to help you," Bera continued, completely unbothered by the pathetic whimpering of the thing in its grasp. He pulled his free hand back, and his mouth twisted into a ferocious snarl. "In _any_ way you want!"

The hapless creature squealed loudly with pain Bera jammed his index and middle finger into its eyes. Bera laughed merrily as he drove them well inside his apostle's skull, then threw the thing away to die as if it were no more than a toy that no longer amused him.

"Heh, I've always wanted to try that," he remarked with a snicker. Looking around the room, he saw the other Seeds merely watching him with shock and alarm. A frown slowly formed on those lips as nothing happened.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" he demanded harshly. "You heard him: he wants you to die! Kill yourselves!"

The assortment of men and women looked confused, which only seemed to annoy Bera. He glowered at them scornfully.

"Honestly, I try my hardest for you people, but you don't even _try_ to have fun!" he complained, then snapped his fingers. One of the vampires gave out a shrill scream of pain as her back suddenly bent back further than it was ever meant to and gave a loud '_snap_' of bone, and then kept on going. She continued to do so even as Bera casually approached her and then proceeded to stomp down on her skull, which instantly and permanently silenced her.

He threw a despairing glance at the crowd as they simply watched him, aghast at his casual murder of their own number.

"It's not all about _you_, you know!" he admonished. "We have _all_ had selfish desires! Which of us has not taken satisfaction from another's loss, hmm?" it was strange listening to Bera scold a crowd of vampires for not killing each other as if they were children that had merely made a mistake. "Which of has not asked and received?"

Bera whipped a finger to me meaningfully.

"He has asked, and now he will receive!" he growled out.

The assorted men and women looked at each other hesitantly, eying their contemporaries warily. And then one of them moved, and that was all it took to set them all off.

They fell upon each other like animals, tearing and clawing and gnashing and screaming and wailing at one another. There were no words to describe the chaotic destruction of what I was

The worst part of it was their smiles. Things had started out grimly enough, all of them wearing grim expressions as if forced to do something they did not care for. But as they killed each other by the droves, ignoring cries of pain, those expressions changed to eager, hungry smiles. Laughter was soon intermingled with the terrible sounds of cracking bone and tearing flesh and agonized screams.

"Hah, _there_ we go!" Bera cheered, folding his arms with contentment. "Now that's more like it!"

It was like something out of a nightmare to watch them, a writhing sea of flesh and faces that seethed angrily with fear, unnatural lust and murder. They tore at each other with a bloodlust that I might have associated with Berserker if not for their primitive and all-too human limitations. Hands and fingers soon proved insufficient for their purposes. It wasn't long before the more cunning of their number turned to improvised weaponry. A stick, a rock, a shard of glass, belts... it didn't seem to matter just what it was: if could in any way, shape or form be considered a weapon, it was soon brought into play.

The ruined corpse of Bera soon had many of its blades removed from it as the Apostles eagerly brought honed steel to a fist-fight. The air was filled with the sound of hacking and cutting.

I stared in mute horror at it all, unable to truly process what I was seeing.

This couldn't be reality: this had to be hell.

There really wasn't any other explanation for how this kind of senseless violence could possibly exist.

It seemed a strange thing to admit: just moments before I had been prepared to do just this. Why did I now balk at the notion? Why did the notion of these monsters turning upon one another at the drop of a hat fill me with such horror?

The last of them eventually emerged from that grisly abattoir, his clothes ripped and stained through with blood and gore. His breath sounded wet and laboured, no doubt because of the long wooden shaft that was broken off in his chest. But he nevertheless wore a proud, satisfied grin even as he collapsed sideways and slowly stopped breathing.

Bera snickered, then nodded at me encouragingly.

"And now it's my turn," He said, grinning wildly. "Go wild, Emiya Shirou! Destroy me in any way you desire!"

"_What do you want?"_

I called to mind a blade, and I did exactly as Bera told me to. He offered no resistance as I cut him down, just like he had before. He didn't even raise a hand in self-defence.

_Something was wrong. This was too easy._

I ignore the niggling doubt, and instead focus on destroying this monster that so casually made a game of death. I tried my level best to make it feel the pain of those it corrupted, of the many lives it ruined for its own amusement.

I spend hours trying to wipe that smile off its mouth, but in the end the only thing I can do to do that is simply cutting them off. And even that doesn't manage it, because I can still see those eyes watching me, full of mirth. I would have done something about those as well, but by then I had grown tired of it all. There was no point to it.

So instead, I simply kill him. I impaled him time and again like I had his former husk, leaving his body a limp husk riddled with cold steel. The room is eerily silent, completely devoid of life. I look around me, and see the corpses, and wonder just what my desire for new clothing had gotten me mixed up into.

"_What do you want?"_

The question sounds like an accusation in my head, causing my blood to run cold with shock.

How was this possible? Bera was _dead!_ I'd killed him myself!

Unless-

Unless he was already inside of me.

With a sinking horror I realize what I had done. Without even realizing, I had done exactly what Bera wanted me to.

I'd let him into me by letting him grant me my wishes. I'd opened the door into my very mind with my senseless requests, manipulated by the weakness that Bera had placed in me by drinking my blood.

"_Who do you want to do it to?"_

"Nothing! Nobody!" I mutter quietly, clutching my head in an attempt to shut out the invasive question.

I realize suddenly that I'd somehow made it back to the surface of Shin-Tokyo. The moon was high in the sky, and my blood rushed in my veins like tidal waves upon the shore. My temples throbbed, and my body seemed to move of its own accord through the darkened

I was so hungry. I needed to find someone, anyone-

_No!_

"_Why wouldn't you?"_

_Because it's wrong!_

I stumble, and fall to the ground. My breath comes out fast and desperate, as if I had been running for hours and only now been allowed rest. I felt a cool liquid drip out of my mouth, and with a sudden fear I wipe it away only to realize that it was saliva, not blood.

So _hungry!_

Coursing red blood and sweet soft meat-

_No!_

I close my eyes and try to ignore the pounding in my vein and the roar in my heard.

"_Wouldn't it feel __**good**__?"_

_No. Stop!_

I open my eyes as I suddenly realize that I'm on my feet again. I blinked in alarm as I noticed that the night sky had changed subtly, and the street I was stumbling through was not the one I had been on just moments ago. I had moved, time had passed, and I had not been aware of it. Just how strongly was Bera influencing me?

Mu blood runs cold as I suddenly as I realize where I am. I recognize the sleepy little street in front of Izumo Inn, and know that it is just behind me.

A house full of people who trusted and loved me-

_No!_

I couldn't allow this to happen.

I couldn't let Bera win!

"_Wouldn't you be __**satisfied**__?"_

_No!_

I pushed open the front door and staggered inside, my limbs seeming to move of their on accord despite my attempts to make them do the opposite.

"_Wouldn't it make you __**happy**__?"_

"N, _no_!" I refuted, but the effort of it seemed to drain me on a physical level.

The world became a blur of motion before my eyes, as if moving in fast-forward. The sensation filled me with nausea, and I had to close my eyes lest I was sick. And if I made too much noise, there was a danger of someone coming to find out what was wrong with me.

And I couldn't trust myself around other people any more. I had to _go_-

"_What do you __**want**__?"_

The question echoed through my thoughts like a worm burrowing itself into my brain. It demanded an answer. I _had_ to answer. Answer...

I need to answer, damn it!

"Ne, onii-chan, what's wrong?" Kusano asked, sounding worried.

My eyes snap open, and I see little Kusano crouched before me with a fearful look on her childish features.

Oh gods _no_.

"Nothing!" I said forcefully, gasping with the effort of resisting.

"_Nothing?"_ something inside of me repeated, confused._ "Impossible. Everyone wants something."_

The question resurfaced again in a different shape, a different voice, a different attack. Cold reason this time

"W, what's wrong with your eyes?" Kusano asked, scrunching up her face in confusion. "They're different! They're changing colours!"

_What do you want?_

"N, nothing," I repeat, struggling against the compulsion.

"_You're so strong, nobody's resisted us like this," _a new voice, magnanimous. Comforting. Generous._ "You should be rewarded. What would you like from us? We can do much for you."_

"Leave me alone!" I cried out desperately.

"Onii-chan, what's wrong?" Kusano asked again, sounding afraid.

"_Alone? But then we would not hear or see or feel or know you."_ sympathetic, fearful. Why would I want to hurt them?_ "And that would be __**sad**__. You would be so __**lonely**__. You don't want to be __**lonely**__, do you?" _it sounded mournful, but I can hear to laughter echoing inside my skull. _"You__** don't want to leave.**__ What __do__ you want?""_

"Just be quiet," I whisper in despair, clenching my eyes shut tightly.

"_Silence? We can make silence," _eager willingness._ "We can make lots of silence. Let us help you."_

Images flicker before my eyes: a man sitting alone in front of a bound and gagged woman, smiling as he casually slices her apart. A vibrant green tree, its natural beauty marred only by the corpses swinging gently from its boughs. Empty streets filled with still and staring dead that had been denied the mercy of a true death.

There were many kinds of silences, and I knew exactly which Bera offered me.

"No!"

"_You do not want silence? Then you want noise. We can make that as well. Who do you want?"_

Again the images danced into my mind, scenes more terrible and gruesome than I had ever thought possible.

"No! I don't want that either!"

"_You don't want silence, and you don't want noise? You cannot want nothing,"_ this voice is cold logic, statement of fact. It brooks no quarrel from me._ "All things want: it is a function of life. You're still alive. What do you __**want**__?"_

Something inside of me snaps at the question, and with it my resistance. I blink, and before I can stop myself I answer. I answer with my greatest ideal, that which drove me, that which _made_ me. I answered with the truth of my existence.

"I want to save people," I say blankly.

My body suddenly writhed, my magical circuits flaring into life as some kind of universal truth shifts inside of my existence. The truth of my existence rings out, and something answers. And _its_ truth is stronger.

"_Yes. You want to save others. You want them to be happy. You wish to live for others,"_ The sound of giggles echo inside my mind, and I can feel my lips turn upwards into a grin. _"We can help you! We __**want**__ to help you! You're like us! We only __**want**__ to help you. We only __**want**__ to __**save**__ you."_

Something burns away inside of me, cut away from me by my own prana. And with it comes new thoughts, unbidden.

I could imagine it now: as a part of this grander whole, I could save many more than I possibly could have on my own. And if I had to give of myself? If I had to allow myself to be twisted into something different?

Then it was of no consequence.

One life to save ten.

"_**We are one**_**.**"

After all, what was one life in the grand scheme of things?

_Yes_.

Laughter echoes inside of me, filling me with warm approval. I smile, feeling much better than I had mere moments before.

"Oh," I said, and recomposed myself. I looked over at Kusano, who was looking at me with such fearful eyes that it broke my heart.

Broken teeth and a parody of a smile inside my mind. Giggles.

"I'm sorry, Kuu-chan," I say warmly. "I wasn't feeling very well a moment ago."

"_What do you want to do to her, Bera?"_

"_I want to save her,_" the thought was mine, but it carries more than I ever would have wanted it to before I had been changed. There is hunger in it, there is desire, and there is also something darker. "_**But first, I want to play with her.**_"

The thought was mine, but The Seed lived inside of it.

/ BAD END

* * *

_Many thanks to Anonymous for picking my nits (and crushing my confidence). It was very helpful/humbling._

_Also to Jimbob for pointing out that FFnet had eaten my formatting. I still do no understand how that happened._


	32. Where The Heart Lives

_Transcripted (Sorta) From The Forums:_

*_GB posts new chapter*_

__**David, tLoGD: ***_Twitch* _Oh happy _*twitch*_ day! A new *_twitch_* chapter!

**Sagitarius:** Oh no, withdrawal has already set in! Someone, anyone, this man needs help!

**Syroc:** *_Enters Stage Left*_ Nurse! Bring my me silly hat! This man needs omake!

* * *

**Where The Heart Lives**

"_I'd like to make a deal."_

The words barely register in my mind as I stare at the otherworldly _thing_ in her hand. The blood melts away before my eyes, the hand that holds it blurs into nothing and all sound dims-

"_Lover-kun?"_

-and turns to a quiet buzz. The artefact dominates my attention, tugging at all of my senses with its impossibility. Shapes within shapes, existences-

"_Shirou-sama?"_

_What is it?_

-at once harmonious and contradictory. An existence that was more than I what I could perceive: the object which I observed was only-

"_Put that thing away! Can't you see what it's doing to him?"_

_What is this thing?_

_-_a piece of the greater whole. It was the tip of the iceberg, an alien knowledge and logic that transcended anything I could possibly comprehend, but-

_"Shirou-sama!"_

_What is that?_

-full of tantalizing promises of understanding.

Uzume's hand closes around it suddenly, and the world around me suddenly unfreezes. I let go of the breath I hadn't been aware of holding, and doing so makes me feel drained and weak. I feel hands on my shoulder, and I realize with some alarm that I was no longer on my own feet but leaning heavily on Kazehana and Akitsu. Somehow I must have lost control of my body, though how this could have come to pass was something of a mystery.

It also seemed that as I regained my awareness I had unwittingly grabbed at the first thing within reach, and in doing so had groped strongly at both Kazehana and Akitsu's, erm, 'assets'. I didn't need to look at either of them to know that they would be sporting blushes, though I had little doubt that Kazehana would be smirking lecherously.

"Uhm," I stammered, and make an effort to regain my feet as quickly as possible. Unfortunately this meant a certain amount of pushing on my part, which in turn lead to a pair of quiet gasps from the pair of Sekirei at my sides. "W, what exactly did you have in mind?"

Uzume, for her part, seemed unconcerned about

"That thing you used on Miya the other day," she began, still watching me carefully. "The sheath. Can you make it again?"

"Yes," I answer immediately, remembering the situation with her Ashikabi. To be honest, I had been expecting something like this for some time now.

Well, not like _this_, obviously. I had hoped for something a bit less... bloody.

"And you can use it to heal anything?" Uzume continued pointedly.

"Not anything," I admitted cautiously, worrying that doing so might cause the woman to do something irrational. "It doesn't work as well on those who it wasn't made for. But unless the person question is in eminent danger of dying, it should be sufficient."

Uzume nodded, confirming what she had already known.

"Then I will give you this," she stated, holding up her closed hand for inspection and not the thing itself lest I return to the strange trance as I had before. "In exchange for your help."

I stare hard at her still-bloody hands, at her grim expression.

"You could have just asked me," I tell her, sounding almost reproachful. It wasn't as if I would have said no.

"Yes, I could," Uzume agreed grimly. "But that's not an option anymore. I'm taking a big risk by offering you this, Shirou."

"What do you mean?" I ask, confused. "What's going on?"

Uzume shook her head resolutely, which in turn caused her limp arm to dangle distressingly with the movement.

"It doesn't matter," she told me. "Do you agree?"

"Of course I do!" I snapped, a little taken aback by all of this. "Just tell me what to do."

"Come with me to Hiyamakai Hospital," Uzume instructed, already turning to leave. "I'll explain what needs to be done on the way."

*Scene Break*

Higa Izumi, as I could recall, often used blackmail and extortion in order to ensure the unwilling cooperation of other Ashikabi or their Sekirei.

Hidaka Chiho was a patient at Hiyamakai Hospital.

Hiyamakai Hospital, I dully remembered, was owned by Higa Izumi.

Hidaka Chiho was dying, and it was only by staying at the hospital that the disease that ravaged her body was held at bay. Mostly.

And I had known all of this for months.

I cannot for the life of me imagine how I did not manage to put it all together before now: the way Uzume would be messaged and then shortly leave on some task that she wouldn't elaborate on, her 'Veiled Sekirei' persona, the many other subtle hints. I should have known. I should have put an end to it.

But, as Rin would point out to me at any given opportunity, I was different from most people.

I'd just assumed that she was just taking out what competitors she could before the Sekirei plan began to get chaotic. Well, more chaotic than it already was. Or she was taking care of her own objectives, whatever they were.

In a way, my assumption wasn't that far off. She _was_ doing all that: just on the behalf of someone else.

But no longer, apparently.

And now here I was, sneaking through an empty hallway with an alien who was wearing the barest minimum of clothing to preserve her dignity and clutching at an ancient artifact of unfathomable power.

And I had thought that the first and second battles of the Third Stage would have been the greatest source of excitement today. How silly of me: I should have known better.

"Here it is," Uzume whispered, stopping at a door. She looked over her shoulder at me, silently asking me to go in first.

I couldn't imagine why, but I suppose that I could deal with this.

I pushed open the door, and was somewhat surprised to see that the young woman who lived in this room was still awake. It was beginning to get quite late, after all, and she _did_ need all the rest she could get if she wanted to get better. Instead, there she was still reading a book.

As soon as she heard the door open she turned to look at me, and the way her hopeful expression faded upon realizing that I wasn't who she hoped I was.

"Oh," she said, clearly disappointed. "Hello," she seemed to realize that she hadn't seen me before, and curiosity naturally set in. "Who are you?"

I heard the door close behind me, and I realized just that Uzume had no intention of following me. I suppose I could understand why: she had been in bad shape when we had met back at Izumo Inn, and she hadn't gotten any better on our way up here.

I could understand the desire not to worry those close to one. How often had I made things more difficult for myself doing just that?

Even so, I wished that she hadn't elected to do so. Her presence would have made this much smoother.

"Ah," I begin, trying to sound as friendly as possible. "My name is Emiya Shirou: I'm a friend of Uzume's. She asked me to stop by-"

"She did?" Chiho immediately perked up. "Is she alright? She sounded a bit worried yesterday, and she didn't stop by today like she said she would."

"She's fine," I assured her, and smiled to see the relief flood into the young woman. Even if it was such a small thing, it made me feel good to help someone. "She only wanted me to stop by because she thinks I might be able to help you."

"Help me?" Chiho asked, sounding confused. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I can heal you," I answer calmly, and wait.

Chiho stares at me as if I had just spoken in a different language, and then her eyes widen in shock at the implication.

"H, heal me?" She stammers out, staring hard at me. "Y, you're like her?"

I open my mouth to refute this, but realize at the last second that doing so would raise questions that I wasn't prepared to answer.

"In a way," I say instead, and smile encouragingly at her. "Please, lie down and close your eyes. It's best if you're as relaxed as possible."

Chiho made to do so, but paused after a moment.

"Wait a minute," She said quietly, and gave me a suspicious glance. "You aren't going to do anything... _funny_, are you?"

My eyebrows go up in alarm at the suggestion, and I feel an irrational disgust well up in me at the suggestion.

"No!" I refute as loudly as I dared to without rousing the attention of the security staff I had eluded in order to get here without gaining the attention of the hospital's security staff. "No, I'm just here to help out as much as I can."

The young woman watched me for a moment longer, before she seemed to reach some internal conclusion and laid back down on her bed.

"If you do anything weird, I'll shout for help." She warned me.

_It'd be sooner to arrive than you'd imagine_, I think to myself as I picture Uzume outside, listening through the door.

"I wouldn't dream of it," I assure her. "I'll try to be as fast as possible."

She nodded minutely at me, and then closed her eyes.

I watched her for a moment just to be sure that she wasn't still watching me, and then I too closed my eyes.

I would need all my focus for this.

"_Trace On,_" I muttered quietly, and the trigger in my mind snapped down and my circuits flared into life. I brought to mind the holy artefact of King Arthur, the dream made corporeal. "_Avalon._"

It fades into existence in my hands, and I look at it reverentially. It was the most magnificent object in my armoury, and

"I will put something on your chest in a moment, is this fine with you?" I inform Chiho, who nods her approval after a moment's thought.

And then I did just that, pushing Avalon down on her chest to ensure that Avalon could work. I knelt by her bedside, trying to concentrate on making Avalon accept as much of my od as possible in order to make this go as fast as possible.

"It's getting kind of hard to breathe," Chiho complained.

I grew concerned with her response, and eased the pressure somewhat.

"Is that better?" I asked.

"A, a bit?" She said slowly, worry entering her voice. "Uhm, should I be feeling like this?"

A sudden cold dread went up my spine, and I immediately ceased pumping od into Avalon.

"Feeling like what?" I asked, my words heavy with concern.

"Uhm, good," Chiho said slowly, and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. "Very good."

"Oh," I answer, suddenly feeling much better. While it was a bit odd, I suppose it wasn't outside the realm of possibility that Avalon's healing power could have a pleasant feel to it for someone who wasn't distracted by having a mortal wound. I wouldn't know: the only times I'd really relied on the artefact's power there had been a great deal of pain to block out any pleasantness. I would have to ask Saber about that, if I ever got the chance to. "Well, maybe. This is the first time I've healed a sickness. Tell me if anything changes, okay?"

"Y, yes," Chiho stammered out, her blush intensifying as I began to feed od back into Avalon.

Her breath came out faster and a light sheen of sweat appeared on her skin as time wore on, but each time I asked if she was alright she shakily assured me that she was feeling fine. Better than fine in fact. It was only when she gave out a quiet gasp and her eyes snapped open that I hastily allowed Avalon to dissipate into nothingness.

"Sh, Shirou-kun." the young woman said, sporting an intense blush. "I don't think I can handle any more for now."

"Ah?" I ask, confused. "Then... did it work? Are you feeling better?"

She looked flushed, but she gave me a happy smile.

"I'm feeling better than I have in years," she informed me, and closed her eyes again. "Although I am a bit tired."

I nodded at this, relief that I had been able to help the poor girl flooding through me.

"You're probably just tired from the healing, and it _is_ getting late," I assure her, and she nods sleepily at me. "I'll just, erm, go then."

She didn't respond, and I assumed that she had simply fallen asleep. I gave her a brief inspection to make sure that she was alright, and when I was confident that was indeed just sleeping I rose to my feet and made my way to the door.

I cast one last furtive look towards the sleeping young woman, and when I confirmed for the last time that she was I allowed myself a brief smile of satisfaction.

I opened and then closed the door behind me as softly as possible so as not to waken the sleeping woman. Even with my help, she would need rest.

Uzume was immediately in front of me, her hard gaze boring into me as she drew close.

"Well?" she asked, desperation in her voice. "How is she?"

"It's too early to tell," I caution her gently. "But I think she should get better soon. It would be best if I came back tomorrow to repeat the process, just to be sure, but-"

I never got a chance to finish the sentence.

Uzume visibly sagged as relief flooded through her, and then she surged forward to wrap her arms around me in a tight hug. I am surprised at her sudden motion, and had raised my arms as if to hold her off, but she was undeterred by this. Even as her own arms tighten around me, I flail with my own in alarm for a moment before realizing that Uzume hadn't attacked me in any way.

"Thank you," She sobbed into my chest. "Thank you so much."

I open my mouth to say that her thanks weren't needed, but realized that even if I said the words she wouldn't stop.

Instead, I laid my own arms around her shoulders. It seemed like the thing to do. And as I did, I couldn't help but smile in satisfaction.

It wasn't often, but sometimes my ideals brought me nothing but joy.


	33. OMAKE OF OMAKE MADNESS: The Good End

_Transcripted (sorta) from the forums:_

**SatireSwift:** Uhm, hey there Syroc. Is there any reason why you're standing so close to me?

**Syroc****:** I like your stories.

**SatireSwift:** Oh.** ***_Sweatdrop* _Yeah, that's, uhm, _great_. Really great. Really.

**Syroc: **I would like to write one of them.

**SatireSwift: **Uh, go for it? Hey, are you usually this creepy?

**Syroc:** ...I have a story to write. Do not go far. I want to show it to you.

**SatireSwift:** Oh, I wouldn't dream of running away from you. Nope, not me. Never.

**Syroc:** That is good. It means I will not have to hide under your bed again.

**SatireSwift: **Oh.

* * *

**The Good End**

I surveyed my handiwork in the newly-repaired shed with a small amount of pride, glad that not for the first time that my affinity for Structural Analysis lent itself so handily towards rebuilding things from memory.

_Voip!_

I pause at the sound, and turn around to look for the source.

And instantly froze in alarm when I spotted it.

There, striding calmly out of a black rectangle of the background, was EMIYA. He stood in front of a black square of infinite nothingness, a gaping wound in reality, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"What in the-" I say with a gasp, taken aback by the sudden appearance of one of my greatest enemies. "How did you get here?"

Insofar as I knew it wasn't possible for someone like him to simply appear. Such things didn't just _happen_, after all. There was usually a great deal of effort involved.

"Portal Door," the man said calmly, and with a wave of his hand the air folded itself back into place and the infinite black void he had emerged from vanished. "The _only_ way to travel. I would think that _you_ of all people would know that."

"What?" I say, even more confused. "What are you talking about? And how are you talking like that?"

Wait a minute, I knew someone who could talk like that...

Was it possible that...?

Oh who was I kidding: of _course_ it was. My life was a magnet for weird.

"You didn't really think you could keep me as a Sealed Badass In a Can for all eternity, did you?" the not-EMIYA growled at me. "You've barely even scratched the surface of what is possible, and you think you can use Tropes to stop _me?"_

"I- what?" I stuttered in confusion. "I think you have me mixed up with someone else."

EMIYA glared at me hatefully for a moment, and then he frowned.

And then, as if waiting for that exact moment, Troper appeared.

"Shirou, who're you talking t-" Troper began to ask, sticking his head out of Izumo House in order to see for himself. His eyes widened in alarm just as my own had, and then a scowl appeared. "_You_. Don't you have to Kick The Dog somewhere? Somewhere not-here, maybe?"

The not-EMIYA turned away from me, our previous conversation instantly forgotten as he found the source of his immediate interest.

"Ah, and I see that _you're_ still playing with yourself," the eerily familiar man remarked with a smirk. "What is it this time? Actually, let me guess: the standard Jumped At The Call Heroic Protagonist over there," he pointed at me, sneering derisively. "Initiated a Sexy Man, Instant Harem-style of plot. And, hmm... judging by the way he recognized me, I'd say he had a situation like ours before. So he's obviously got a Dark and Troubled Past. Now what kind of story does this make?"

"This isn't just a story," Troper growled out.

"Of course it is," the man, who I was rapidly beginning to think of as TROPER, growled. "I thought we'd already gotten past this."

"And _I_ thought I sealed _you_ in a can, but here we are," Troper countered with a grin. "I guess we were both wrong."

"About that," TROPER began, snickering a bit. "You really shouldn't have left me in the cupboard. That's just asking for trouble."

"I'll bear that in mind the next time I seal you in a can," Troper chuckled.

Without warning TROPER surged forward in a blur of motion, crossing the space between himself and Troper in the blink of an eye. Troper had time enough to open his mouth to give voice to his surprise, but not enough to stop TROPER from reaching over hand and slamming his open plan across his younger counterpart's face.

"You think I don't know see what you're doing?" TROPER snarled, and then he swung Troper around and smashed him into the ground with enough force to create a shallow outline of his body in the ground. "You think a paltryBadass Boast like that and some Witty Banter can change what's going to happen? You're a thousand years too early to try and weave this story against me! _Mood Whiplash: Darker And Grittier_!"

A pulse of colour flashed through the air as he spoke the words. Well, not colour. It wasn't actually anything that could be quantified as a physical presence in any way.

It was more like a feeling.

And what it felt like was black.

Almost immediately the atmosphere shifted to become more oppressive and brooding. It felt as if every worry and nagging doubt had suddenly been dragged, squirming, into the light. Whereupon it promptly evaporated and filled the air with noxious, depressing fumes. A weight settled on my shoulders. My stomach sank.

All the joy in the world seemed to dimmer and fade just a little.

"Oh, come _on_," Troper complained loudly, emerging slowly from his Troper-shaped crater. "Was that really necessary?"

TROPER folded his arms across his chest and scowled.

"No, it wasn't," he announced. "I did it because I wanted to."

"Jeez," Troper grumbled bitterly, dusting himself off. "You are _such_ a Knight of Cerebus."

"You should know better than most," TROPER agreed.

"No," Troper refuted hotly. "I won't let it happen. Future Me Scares Me, after all."

"Good," TROPER laughed. "Then you aren't a fool!"

Right. This was getting ridiculous.

"Excuse me, could someone please tell me what's going on?" I ask, holding up my hand.

Both Troper and TROPER snap their heads to the side to look at me, their posturing forgotten for a moment. Then the two exchanged glances once more, and TROPER shrugged.

"Alright, I'll try to be brief: this is the EMIYA from my version of the Grail War, and he was Rin's Caster-"

"Wait, _caster_?" I ask, already confused. "Not Archer?"

Troper gave me a funny look.

"Nnnnooo," he said slowly. "That wouldn't make any sense. How would we turn tropes into arrows?"

TROPER snorted derisively.

"Think 'Cupid', and it becomes possible. Pointless, but-," he started, but was cut off.

"_Shut Up, Hannibal_!"Troper shouted angrily. "_I'm_ talking."

TROPER scowled, but didn't say anything.

"_Anyways_, as I was saying: he was Rin's Caster, right up until the end when he backstabbed us and tried to pull a Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies, but I stopped him in time."

"And you had an epic fight in which you tested your ideals against one another, and you learned your abilities from him?" I supplied, beginning to find firm ground in the midst of all this confusion.

It wasn't to be, alas.

"What? No. I just sealed him away the first chance I got," Troper asked, raising an eyebrow at me. "Have you not been listening to him? He's a complete Jerkass. Why would I want to listen to anything _he_ says?"

I opened my mouth to say why, and found that I couldn't really spot a flaw in this logic. After all, hadn't I done just that?

"Oh," I say instead. "And he's here because...?"

Troper frowned.

"I don't know," he admitted, and looked over at the third person present.

"Because your ideals need to be destroyed," TROPER answered, still scowling. "Now are you done talking to yourself?"

"Not quite," I say, and close my eyes. I hadn't been too sure before, but with those words I had heard everything I needed to. Ideals were _important_.

"_Trace On_," I chanted, and felt the trigger in my mind snap down as my magical circuits burned with sudden life. "_I am the bone of my sword,_"

I held the images of my two favoured weapons in my mind, and let the truth of their existence flow out from my internal world and take form from my od. The two blades of Kanshou and Bakuya shimmered menacingly

"Oh, would you look at that?" TROPER said, his voice full of condescension. "Swords. How quaint," and then he smirked. "_Inverse Law of Utility and Lethality_."

"Oh goddammit," Troper groaned, and slapped his forehead. "You'd better sit this one out, Shirou."

"What?" I asked, alarmed. "Why would I do that?"

"Because he's Dangerously Genre Savvy," my counterpart warned.

"I'll take my chances," I say confidently.

And then a few moments later I greatly regretted it.

As I approached, TROPER merely shrugged and made a second invocation.

"_No-Holds-Barred Beatdown_," he intoned, and lowered himself into an unfamiliar combat-stance.

It was as if all those years of training and fighting had been for nothing, all of my hard-won skill and poise amounting to nothing against TROPER. None of my tricks worked on him, and I might as well have been an unwashed novice with my blades if the way he danced circles around me and then proceeded to beat me like a red-headed step-child was any indication of my overall skill-level. And there really were no other words to describe the savage beating I received at his hands: it wasn't so much a fight as it was a valiant effort to not get brutally killed.

Eventually I was catapulted away from the not-EMIYA with a single kick to my abdomen. A powerful, bone-crushing kick that sent me careening across the ground to land in a groaning heap at the edge of the yard.

"Well, that was fun," TROPER remarked, and rolled his shoulders.

Troper spared me a sympathetic look as he passed by me, and faced his own personal demon.

For a moment I reflected on the foolishness of my actions, and more pressingly just why I had felt like interfering in this. I mean, _yes_, I had wanted to help Troper. But something else had driven me, forced me to act.

And then I realize that I wasn't alone.

"What the hell is going on?" Homura asked worriedly, dragging me away from the fight. "Who is that person Troper is fighting?"

"I have no idea," I answer truthfully, and look back towards the two Tropers. They seemed to be sizing one another up, each one searching for the best opening. "Where is everyone else?" I asked, worried about what might happen if anyone else got involved in this.

"Most of the others are off getting the groceries," Homura answered quickly, looking me over for any serious injuries. "Uzume and Rin are off doing... something. I didn't want to ask."

"And Miya?" I ask, even more concerned. I didn't want to consider what she might do if she found out that my alternate self was fighting his future self in her back yard.

I was pretty sure she would say something wry about that. And then stab someone. Quite possibly me. Or one of the variations of me.

Ugh, this was getting confusing.

"I don't know, she just said that she had some errands to run," Homura answered, and then nodded towards TROPER. "Who's the other guy?"

"I'm pretty sure that it's Troper from the future," I answered, grunting with pain as I struggled to get myself into a sitting position.

"Really?" Homura asked. "But then... why are they fighting?"

"Because the future-me is a jerk," I answer calmly. Homura looks over at me with concerned, obviously uncertain about how he should feel about this statement.

Apparently the two had had enough waiting around, and without further adieu the two leapt at one another.

It was a curious thing, watching them fight.

It wasn't like watching a fight at all. It was almost like watching a game of speed-chess: one would lash out with one trope, and the other would instantly counter with a different one to either negate or convert the invocation. There were attacks, to be certain. The two punched and kicked at each other with a viciousness I hadn't seen from anyone except a select few Dead Apostles that had specialized in close combat and Rin when she was in full 'I am your Master'-mode of teaching. In fact, if I wasn't mistaken, I was certain that Troper was using Rin's style.

Huh. Fancy that.

But such attacks were mere vessels to carry the brunt of other, more lethal attributes their attacks contained. A punch would be augmented with a _Coming In Hot_ that turned a mere first into a devastating fiery-punch, or a kick would be used in conjunction with a _Finishing Move_ that threatened to end the fight in a single blow if it connected. But each attack was countered or avoided, and the two continued to

And then a threshold was reached. TROPER crouched down low to avoid a particularly potent _Roundhouse Kick_ and then struck with a serpents speed with an uppercut that was further augmented by a shout of "_Launcher move_" that sent Troper soaring skyward.

It takes him a few seconds for him to complete his arc and then begin to fall, and when he finally hits the ground he lands in a boneless heap.

Even so, he slowly staggers back onto his feet, grimly readying himself to resume the fight.

TROPER takes in this defiance, and scowls fiercely.

"You can't beat me, whelp!" he taunted, calmly approaching the still-groaning Troper. "There's An Aesop to be had, and you _will_ hear it!"

Troper sneers at the notion and lurches forward determinately.

"I don't need it," Troper growled out. "I'll do things my own way."

"You're trying to find a Happy Ending for everyone," TROPER snarled. "You're trying to find a Good End where there isn't one to be found. You _know_ where that path ends. _I_ am at the end of that road, and there is _nobody else!_"

"That isn't true," Troper refuted loudly. "I've helped plenty of people find their Happy Ending!"

"You've given them a Happy Ending they did not work for!" TROPER elaborated harshly. "You became their Deus Ex Machina so that they would not have to change! You've _destroyed_ their stories!"

"No," Troper refuted again, this time not as strongly as he had before.

"For every Midsummer's Night Dream there's a Romeo And Juliet. For every Lord of the Rings there's a Song of Ice and Fire. Every Shaun of the Dead has a Walking Dead. And even the Good End is built upon a thousand Bad Ends," TROPER spat out disdainfully. "Happy Endings are for children."

"What is he talking about, Troper?" I asked, a bit worried. I didn't know what half of the things he was talking about were, but I wasn't exactly comfortable with the way this was going.

"Go on, tell him," TROPER egged, leering at Troper.

Troper glowered over at his counterpart, but slowly did as he was bid.

"I told you once before, didn't I?" he explained slowly. "That all lives are stories, narrated by someone else."

TROPER nodded grimly, and pointed imperiously at Troper.

"All lives are stories," he agreed coldly, and then gestured towards his surroundings. "But there aren't enough Happy Endings for all of them. The best most people can hope for is a True End, and many don't even get that much. How many Happy Endings are there to be found in a city so large? How many of them _deserve_ them?"

"I refuse to believe that," Troper snapped in response.

"Your belief is irrelevant," TROPER asserted coldly. "The Multiverse pushes ever forward, and it is neither justice nor love that drives it!"

"But they can drive us!" Troper protested. "We are all of us the heroes of our stories!"

"All stories end in _death_!" TROPER interjected. "We only stop watching once we get the Good End we want!"

"That isn't true! Everyone deserves a Happy Ending!" Troper shouted in protest.

"'Everyone'?" TROPER repeated, despair in his voice. "When will you learn? These aren't people: they're _characters!_ They're hollow vessels, caricatures of real people!"

"That isn't true!" Troper disagreed hotly, pushing TROPER away. "They're just as real as us!"

"_Exactly!_" TROPER snarled. "What kind of person thinks their reality is a story? What kind of person can perceive the Narrativium and wrap it around their fingers? What kind of person looks at their reality and categorizes it into story-elements? Not a person at all, but a _character!_ This is our distortion, our reality!"

Troper didn't answer, merely continued to glower.

"Now it's time for us play out our roles." TROPER said smugly, smirking that crooked smile that I was so familiar with. "_Anyone Can Die_."

Troper stiffened, and instantly barked out an incantation of his own.

"_Plot Armour_!" He invoked loudly. White light flashed all around him, and solidified into an unearthly facsimile of armour.

"_Useless Useful Spell_," TROPER calmly countered, and then his smile turned feral. The luminous armour that had surrounded Troper instantly flickered, and then vanished. "You _still_ haven't learned the true power of Tropes."

Without further warning TROPER begins walking towards Troper.

My other self scowls fiercely, and then straightened himself to resume the fight. As he does, however, he casts a glance in my direction.

"Shirou, quick! Give me your swords!" he orders, a look of desperate hope in his eyes.

I blinked, realizing that Troper was talking to me, and I realize that I am, indeed, still tightly clasping my swords. I guess all those lectures from Saber about never losing my swords really had had an effect.

Without hesitation I tossed my weapons to him. I was glad to give any help I could in this fight. Troper effortlessly snatches them out of the air, and gives them an experimental twirl in his hands.

"_The Power of Friendship: Possession Implies Mastery_," Troper invoked smugly, and behind him a veritable _rainbow_ of light flashed into existence behind him, as if he was in some kind of anime.

"So, you want to raise the stakes, huh?" TROPER asked, ignoring the display. "_Absurdly Sharp Sword_."

A hilt materialized in his hand, made of metal that was elaborately wrought to impart the impression of skulls and bones.

It _was_ a sword. It was a blade so thin, so sharp that it could cut light. Excalibur might be able to cloak itself in air, but this weapon cut away its own appearance, leaving only a vague outline of where it should be.

But that was the least of its abilities. I could perceive that much. This was a weapon that could cut through anything. _Anything_.

And the implications of that made my head hurt.

I wanted to speak out in warning, to dissuade Troper from going forth with this insane battle, but my mind would not let me. Instead it focussed on that impossible weapon, as alien to me as Ea was.

Troper seemed to sense something like this as well, and cursed quietly.

"_Implausible Fencing Skills_," he quietly invoked, and readied himself.

"That won't save you," TROPER boasted, and raised his sword-arm high as if to strike. "_Death of a Thousand Cuts_."

The invisible sword was brought downward in a slow cut, and it sliced a deep gash across reality as it did. The sound of it ripping was like glass shattering and tinkling in the distance, like an agonized scream, like fingernails across a chalkboard.

Troper did his best, and considering the obscene power brought against him he did a good job of it. But against TROPER's attack, there could be no triumph. There was no defence against a single blade cutting a thousand times at once. He twisted and dodged, he writhed and blocked, but in the end he was cut, hundreds of times. He grunted in surprise as he was sliced by something so sharp that its blade brought no pain as it gashed a seemingly infinite amount of cuts across his body.

For a moment he stood there, transfixed by the many blades that were riddling his body, and then as one the swords withdrew as TROPER pulled his sword back into place. Troper instantly collapsed backwards onto the ground, the invisible swords that had been holding him up no longer present to do so. Blood oozed out from hundreds of wounds on his body of varying size and lethality

"That's all you got?" Troper laughed weakly, staggering to his feet. He seemed heedless of his ruined body, ignorant of the agony he should be in. He took a stumbling step forward, lurching unsettling towards his enemy.

"Giving up already?" he taunted, and pointed Kanshou at TROPER. "This is _my_ story! You can't beat me!"

"You still haven't figured it out yet, have you?" TROPER asked, sneering down at

"It cuts through time and space, able to strike at any point in any time," I explain.

"Ah?" TROPER grunted in surprise, looking at me. "It looks like your other self is much more perceptive than you are."

"Maa, only in this matter," I answer, embarrassed to be praised by someone who obviously thought so little of me.

"And more modest, too," TROPER continued, looking away. "You could learn a few things from him."

"Heh, I've heard something like that before," Troper admits weakly.

"Of course, it hardly matters anymore. Not when I can finish this once and for all," TROPER comments, smirking once more. "I'll make it quick."

"Heh, not so fast," Troper said, grinning weakly. "I still know your weakness."

TROPER scowled, and raised his not-sword to deliver the fatal blow.

"And what would that be?" he asked suspiciously.

"_Space Whale Aesop: Aesop Amnesia_!" Troper rapidly invoked, not giving his future self time to react. "_All According To Plan: Sealed Badass In A Can_!"

TROPER had just a moment to register his surprise before he seemed to be shrink, not down to the ground but rather from all directions at once. He hovered comically in the air, supported by nothing.

"This is bulls_hiiiiii_-" his voice grew higher in pitch as he shrank in size, as if he was breathing in helium, until he reached the height of a hand-length.

Whereupon there was a quiet 'pop', and a can suddenly appeared in his place, which quickly fell to the ground.

I couldn't resist. I walked over and picked it up.

"_Can o' whoopass_," I read off blankly, raising an eyebrow at Troper. He merely shrugged, and I continued. "_Open and apply liberally for instant badass_. Is this for real?"

Troper shrugged again, still not looking at us.

"As real as anything," he answered impassively. "I _told_ him I was going to do it, too. Tone Shift: Lighter and Softer."

The oppressive atmosphere vanished, and for a moment I was certain that the world around me seemed just a little bit more vibrant and full of colour.

"Wait, so that really _was_ you?" Homura asked, eyebrows arching upwards in surprise. "I thought Shirou was just delirious when he said it was."

"Well, it might be," Troper admitted. "The future is a tricky place to get a handle on, and adding The Multiverse onto it makes everything especially murky."

"So, that means that Shirou also grows into him?" the fire-user continued, watching the two of us closely.

"Not exactly," I acquiesce, wondering where exactly Homura was going with this. "My own version was as different to Troper's as I am to Troper. I think."

I'm pretty certain that this EMIYA wasn't a Counter Guardian, for example. Gaia wasn't renowned for letting her dogs loose without good reason.

Homura contemplated our respective answers, stroking his chin thoughtfully as he did so. And then he seemed to have reached a verdict of some kind.

"Shirou, you're not allowed to become him."

I nodded grimly at this, and fervently hoped that I would be able to follow that rule.

_*Later!*_

"Y'know, there's one thing that's still bothering me about all of this," Homura said suddenly, staring fixedly at the Can o' Whop*ss.

"Yeah?" Troper asked, still tending to his hurts. "What is it."

"There was something strange about what he said," Homura pointed. "He said he wanted to give you an Aesop, but then he went and tried to kill you. That doesn't make much sense."

Troper considered this for a moment, and then shrugged.

"Plothole," he suggested airily, wrapping a particularly nasty gash with gauze. "Some narrators are sloppier than others."

"What?" Homura asked, confused. "But, I thought each of us has our own narrator."

Troper looked over at Homura with a raised eyebrow.

"And you think they wouldn't get _bored_ of being restricted to one person?" he asked rhetorically. "'We are but playthings of the gods'. Didn't you ever play with someone else's toys?"

For a moment nobody said anything, and silence reigned in all its awkward splendour. But it's reign was sadly short-lived.

"You say some really creepy things sometimes, Troper," Homura eventually determined, and promptly pushed the whole notion out of his mind.


	34. A Different Outcome

**A Different Outcome**

"_You're working too hard,_" he'd said.

"_You should put the tablet aside and take a long bath,_" he'd said.

"_It will help relax you,_" he'd said.

I couldn't help but reflect on these words as I gaped at the sight before me, wondering just what about all of this was supposed to make me feel better.

Homura, who had moments before been enjoying a hot bath alone in peace and quiet, promptly "Eep"-ed and lowered himself into the water while hastily covering his chest with his hands.

"Shirou!" he yelped, eyes wide with alarm.

'_What in the world?_' I said, but somehow the words became confused on their way out of my mouth and instead became "Hrk".

"Shirou! What the hell are you doing in here?" Homura demanded, blushing intensely.

'_It was an accident!_' I hastened to assure him, but again my traitorous mouth changed the words. They came out as "Erg," along with a large amount of bewilderment.

Breasts. Breasts on a man. Or wait...

Nope. Definitely man. I feel my cheeks get uncomfortably warm at this affirmation.

"Wait," Homura said desperately, "I can explain! It's, it's...

Homura looked uncertain, more than a little worried. And then, slowly but deliberately, he removed his hands from his chest.

"I can't do this any longer," He admitted quietly, and to my great distress he stood up from the bath and gave me the full Monty. "I can't deny how I feel about you any longer, Shirou."

He stepped out of the bathwater, and took a cautious step toward me.

I tried very hard not to look, but my eyes were inevitably drawn downwards towards...

"Gah! Hide you shame!" I cried out, and made as if to cover my eyes on his behalf before I realized how childish that was. There was nothing on him that I hadn't seen before, after all. And then I remembered that they weren't supposed to be on the same person, and the impulse returned.

Homura raised an eyebrow at me, and made a slow grin.

"Shame?" he repeated, and shifted his hips into what I could only assume was supposed to be an alluring pose. "Shirou, this isn't my shame," he licked his lips slowly. "It's my _pride_. Let me show you why..."

"Gggh!" I grunt out, and fumble blindly for the door handle. Blindly, because I found myself unable to tear my eyes away from what I was seeing because of horrified fascination. "No! That's perfectly alright! I'll take your word for it!"

"Come now, Shirou," Homura purred. "Surely you're _curious_-"

"No! No I'm not!" I assured him loudly. Desperately. "Really!"

"You _should_ be," the Sekirei laughed. "I'm a host, after all. There are things I could-"

_"No that's perfectly fine!_" my voice comes out strangled as I struggle with the door handle. This was coming uncomfortably close to one of Yukari's strange manga for my comfort.

I look to my side desperately to speed things up, and to my great relief my hand at last found the doorhandle.

But before I could pull the door open (off its hinges, if need be,) and rush out to punish whoever was responsible for this madness, another hand laid itself over mine and prevented me from doing so.

"And where do you think you're going?" Homura purred into my ear.

Oh no.

It had finally happened.

My life really _was_ one of Yukari's dirty magazines.

I whimpered pathetically as Homura held me close and guided me further into the bathroom.

*_Elsewhere!*_

"So, how do you think the bath is going?" Yukari asked, trying her best to sound innocent.

As if waiting for those very words, there came an answer from above.

"Eeeyaaaa-!" A scream that sounded eerily similar to Shirou's voice sounded through Izumo Inn. But it couldn't have been him: after all, it sounded far too girly to be Shirou. "Homura, no, don't, I'm not- Kyaaa_aaa_~!"

It was almost comical to watch as every cheek around the table instantly light up to a cherry-red.

"W, w, _what is going on up there?_" Tsukiumi stammered out, trying to pass off her intense blush as indignant rage.

"Oh my," Matsu said, her glasses suddenly shining against a non-existent glare. "It sounds like Homura-tan _likes_ a bit of company."

"I didn't think it would actually work out like that," Uzume said, making a 'not bad' face. "Good going Homura!"

Miya, on the other hand, merely sighed and retrieved her sword.

"My,_ my_ Shirou, you do break the rules in such interesting ways," she said, and sallied forth to put an end to all things perverted.


	35. Clipped Wings and Broken Blades

****_Transcripted (sorta) from the forums_

__**Lycodrake:** Omake-monkeys! Ship me some Haihane!

**Syroc:** Who?

_*Whipcrack*_

**Lycodrake:** I hear talking! That is not writing! Back to work!

**Syroc:** *_Sigh_*

* * *

**Clipped Wings And Broken Blades**

In spite of what conventional understanding of the theory of natural selection might suggest, it _wasn't_ the strong that survived the 'War Of Shin-Tokyo'. It was the weak, the forgettable and the cowardly that passed through the eye of the storm relatively unharmed. And even in their case, not all of them made it.

The strong were simply destroyed by the meat-grinder that was conflict, leaving behind only their bones on broken streets or in ruined, abandoned buildings.

When those strange men and women from far-flung nations came to the city, bypassing barricades and roadblocks as if they weren't even there and killing scores of armed soldiers without a sound, it was the strong who had stood up to stop them. How could a mere handful of _humans_ hope to succeed were armies had failed? And for a time, they had been right. But then things changed, and they had found out that the reality of magical aliens was only as improbable as that of magical humans. Moreso, in fact, considering that there was well over seven billion humans whereas there was only a little over a hundred full-blooded Sekirei.

And what they then discovered was that while most human magic simply wasn't on the same level as that of a Sekirei's, the difference was more than made up for with practice, discipline and a heaping helping of lethal ingenuity.

That was when the strong had started dying.

They didn't die easily, of course, or quietly.

Miya alone, reunited with her Totsuga no Tsurigi and sporting her terrifying specter at all times, had single-handedly killed a great many invaders. But she too, in the end, had fallen victim to some strange weapon that nobody had seen before. One moment she had been about to decapitate a grim-faced young woman, and in the next she had been blasted by several concentrated streams of water so strong that they were more like spears than the otherwise relatively harmless liquid. They had ripped her apart before she had any time to protect herself.

Karasuba had died laughing with terrifying ecstasy as she brought down the MBI headquarters right on top of herself and several of the more powerful members of the opposing forces. The city still bore the scar of that battle: there was a long path of destruction where the building had toppled over, and even now the ruined headquarters were a highly contested spot for both the invaders and other scavengers seeking to find some of the famed MBI tech.

Benitsubasa had managed to beat seven of them to death with her bare hands before she had been consumed by a wall of fire that had seemed to come from nowhere. But even _that_ had not been enough to take out the spiteful woman: it was only when she, her Ashikabi and the last remaining member of the Disciplinary Squad had been discovered and then ambushed that she finally met her end.

And there wasn't a day that Haihane didn't remember it.

_"Take him away from here!"_ Haihane remembered her former partner's desperate plea, unable to stop the feeling of helplessness from welling up in her._ "Keep him safe!"_

So she had.

She'd dragged Natsuo away from the horrendously wounded Sekirei, through the worryingly silent streets of Shin-Tokyo and barely avoided being killed as the street suddenly erupted with a geyser of water and loose stone.

Natsuo, alas, hadn't quite made it out of the encounter unscathed.

Shrapnel from a particularly nasty blast of water had found its mark in Natsuo, and though it hadn't been lethal he hadn't been able to feel his legs from that day on.

Their attacker, on the other hand, had found out that when fighting against someone with a blade on each of her fingers it was a very bad idea to let them get in close. Haihane had given new meaning to the phrase 'death by a thousand cuts'. In the end she hadn't quite been able to manage it, but she was happy with the results regardless. Well, she had been. If she'd know then what she did now, she might have taken more care.

Because Haihane had been forced to carry Natsuo ever since then, hoping that doing so wouldn't agitate his injury in some way and make it worse. She didn't think that medical aid would be easy to procure, especially with those crazy, murderous psychopaths stalking through the city looking for anything that looked like it might not be wholly human.

The War was over now. Nobody had really won, but it was definitely the city that had lost the most. There nary a street or building that hadn't been touched in some way by all the fighting. Whether it was something as benign as a lack of electricity or the leveling of an entire residential complex, _everyone_ was affected. Not many knew how or why, but that didn't change the fact that Shin-Tokyo was now more of a ruin than a city

She'd been making a wide migration across the city, searching for some safe avenue out. Always with her Ashikabi on her back, keeping an extra pair of eyes out for danger. Things were safer that way, both for her and for him. But those same barriers and checkpoints that had offered so little resistance to these strange invaders were now working against her, as once their enemies had realized that many Sekirei would choose to flee rather than fight, they had quickly locked the city down even tighter than MBI had.

After all, MBI was interested in keeping most of the participants of the Sekirei Plan alive. The same couldn't be said for these newcomers.

Days would pass by in a blur of dread and fear and guilt for her, each one bringing with it the renewed possibility of discovery and what could possibly be the end for Natsuo and herself. But, possibly in part of that same fear, it never happened.

Well, she was never found by those weird humans.

It seemed it was only a matter of time before a minor headache from the past resurfaced. And the headache in question was number 108, Kusano.

"Oh, it's the Crazy-Hands-Lady! Hello Crazy-Hands-Lady!" The little girl greeted cheerfully, waving eagerly at her. A moment later she seemed to notice the load she was carrying, and dutifully amended herself. "Oh, and Crazy-Hands-Lady's Ashikabi!"

The sudden greeting, the only sound she had heard so far that day, had nearly caused a heart-attack. Luckily it didn't. Instead, she'd simply squawked in alarm and promptly stumbled forward, falling to the ground with her Ashikabi still on her back.

Who didn't seem to notice in the slightest.

"Oh, Kusano-chan," Natsuo greeted in return, not seeming overly distraught that his Sekirei had fallen. "Good little girls shouldn't startle people like that, you know."

"Fugh," the girl huffed, folding her short arms across her chest. "It's not Kuu-chan's fault you didn't see her! She was waving at you for _forever_, but you never waved back!"

"Waving at us...?" Natsuo repeated, sounding somewhat dubious. "Really? Are you certain?"

Haihane had a sudden suspicion that her Ashikabi might not have been doing a very good job of keeping a lookout. Which did nothing to allay her fears of discovery, or of her mounting annoyance at having to carry someone who would periodically bemoan the loss of his own private cocktail bar. Not to mention all the help he needed now that he was effectively an invalid.

"Of course Kuu-chan is certain!" The girl said, fuming petulantly. "Stupid Ashikabi-san."

Haihane, having recovered from her initial surprise, began the task of untangling her limbs and standing back up. It was made all the more difficult because her gauntlets, and more specifically the long blades at the end of each her fingers while Natsuo weighed her down. Getting to her feet without ruining her blades or accidentally slicing Natsuo up was looking to be a troublesome task.

Eventually she managed it, and though would never admit it the way Kusane had cheered her on _had_ lightened her spirits somewhat. It was amazing what seeing a little girl without an ounce of guile in her loudly calling out her name (or epithet, rather. She would have to make a point of telling the girl her name later,) and for her to _not_ be instantly set upon by a swarm of psychopaths could do for morale. If it was possible for #108 to get away with that, then maybe things weren't as dire as she'd feared.

"C'mon, Crazy-Hands-Lady!" the little girl cried out. "Kuu-chan has a watermelon! And Pears! And bananas!"

Haihane stiffened at the mention of that particular fruit, and faced with the knowledge that she hadn't had one since before the War had begun along with an ever dwindling possibility of finding some in the near future, she decided that it was high time that she made an executive decision.

"That sounds like a good idea, Kuu-chan," the grey-haired Sekirei said quickly before Natsuo could possibly shoot down the notion. She didn't think he would, but she wasn't going to take the chance.

Good bananas were hard to come by these days.

*_Later!*_

It turns out that Kusano hadn't been lying when she said she had bananas. And the fruits, but at the moment she was fixating on the important matter: ripe, tasty bananas.

The little girl had turned a small courtyard into a veritable jungle, with trees and vines and bushes pushing stone and concrete out of their way as if they were no more formidable than pebbles or sand. Which was hardly surprising: #108 had never been completely modified, and so she retained a greater portion of her original power than other Sekirei. Haihane had no doubt that the little girl would be able to put up quite a fight in this place.

The thought did make her more than a little resentful of MBI and their modifications, however. How different would all this have been if there had been less extensive modifications? How many more would still be left able to fight?

Would Beni-

Haihane shook her head suddenly, as if to dislodge the thought from her mind. It was better not to think like that. It was better not to remember.

"Wine is made from fermenting fruit-juice, right?" Natsu asked quietly from her back, looking speculatively at a bunch of grapes.

"Beats me," the ashen-haired Sekirei answered, glad for the distraction. "Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering if we could maybe make some sangria," he explained, and shrugged. "This probably isn't the best time for that, though."

"No, it probably isn't," Haihane agreed, sighing heavily. Really, was that the _only_ thing he was thinking about at a time like this? A sudden patch of color caught her eyes. "Hey, are those peaches?"

She approached the fruit, intent on getting her hands on something else for her and her Ashikabi to eat, when she tripped over something. She a short yelp of surprise she fell forward yet again, cursing her luck.

This time, however, it wasn't just her dignity that took a blow. This time, it was the bananas that paid the price for her clumsiness. The sweet fruits were crushed by the fall, squished inside peels.

Before she could ever get a chance to eat them.

Without care for her Ashikabi, Haihane spun around to deal with whatever it was that had tripped her up in a most terrible manner.

Doing so revealed something else: how Kusano was still active.

Haihane had assumed that the young man that Karasuba had been so fixated on had been killed or captured like so many others had. The few times she had encountered him he had struck her as the kind of person who wouldn't stand still and accept the sort of things that were happening in Shin-Tokyo. She had assumed that that attitude would have led him to pay the ultimate price for such an attitude. But apparently this was not the case. No, it seemed that he too had been rendered invalid by the invaders.

She'd tripped over _him_, as he lay there unmoving. She was about to apologize, when she realized that he hadn't reacted in the slightest. He was only minutely disturbed from the position he had occupied moments before, and that was mostly because she had accidentally tripped over him.

"Ah, onee-san," Kusano suddenly appeared at her side, all concern for her ashikabi. "Don't bother onii-chan! He's not awake right now."

The little girl fussed over the young man for a few moments, rearranging him back into a comfortable position on top of what looked like a makeshift bed of leafy plants.

Looking at the young man, Haihane couldn't help but think that he was a lot less asleep than he seemed to be. There was a certain... otherworldliness about him. It was almost as if he wasn't fully there: that there was something intangible about him that was lurking just at the edges of her vision. An awareness of something that she just couldn't quite see.

It was unnerving.

"What's wrong with him?" She asked before she could stop herself.

Kusano didn't look up from her Ashikabi, instead focusing completely on her task.

"Onii-chan is just resting," she chirped, and when she was confident that he was back in a comfortable position she sat down by his side, smiling like the sun. "He says he can't come back right now."

"'He says'?" Haihane repeated, raising an eyebrow. "So he's awake sometimes?"

"Onii-chan can't wake up right now," The girl explained quietly, looking downwards fixedly. "He says it's because he reached too far for a miracle," She looked up suddenly, and now Haihane realized just that the girl's smile was forced: she had been alone for too long, taking care of a corpse that had yet to give up the fight against mortality for it to be anything else. "But that's alright, he can still talk to Kuu-chan! It's because I'm such a powerful side-kick!"

Haihane smiled briefly, a flicker of amusement warming her soul slightly after weeks of worry and mounting despair.

"I think you mean 'psychic'," she suggested lightly, letting herself ease away from her wariness somewhat. She hardly thought the girl would be a threat. Even if she _could_ make giant vines with thorns as sharp as razor-blades.

"That's what Kuu-chan said!" the small girl fumed, folding her arms across her chest with a huff. "You need to listen better!"

"Fine, fine," the ashen-haired woman placated, chuckling quietly. "I'll be sure to do that."

"You said he couldn't come back," Natsuo said suddenly, sounding very interested in the conversation.

"Yes," Kusano said, looking down again. "He's somewhere else right now."

"Natsuo, maybe this isn't the time-" Haihane tried to interject, but her Ashikabi didn't listen.

"Then where is he?" Natsuo asked, apparently deciding to humor the girl. Haihane looked over to him with disapproval, wondering just what kind of answer he was hoping to get from such a question. It was _obvious_ what had happened to her Ashikabi: he'd slipped into a coma. Anything else was just something she told herself to make herself feel better. That was the only-

"He's trapped in a field of swords," Kusano answered matter-of-factly without a moment's hesitation. "Nothing grows there, and there are giant metal circle-things with teeth that float in the sky. Onii-chan is alone there. He waits, trying to understand the reason."

Haihane stared dumbly at the girl. There was no answer to that, nothing that could be said in response. Its sheer impossibility granted her statement protection from trivialities like 'logic' and 'reason'.

"The reason for what?" She eventually asked, genuinely curious. It seemed like the only thing she _could_ do, in fact.

"Why that world has to exist," Kusano explained uncertainly, as if she herself didn't quite understand. "And why he can't change it."

Haihane felt vaguely unsettled by the answer, though she couldn't tell why. Obviously the girl was just imagining it: as powerful a psychic as she might be, what she was describing was... impossible.

But she felt compelled to ask a final question.

"Why did he go there?"

Kusano shrugged half-heartedly, staring down at the ground.

"He tried to save Kuu-chan and the other onee-chans," she answered quietly. "He didn't want anything to happen to us, so he tried to take all the bad-people to that field," she kicked at an errant stone, sending it skipping away across the ruined pavement. "But he couldn't take all of them, and now he can't leave."

Haihane had no answer to that, and seeing as her attempts to find some sort of reason behind her statements had left her so troubled she decided to forego saying anything else.

She looked down at the young man again, and once more that sense of perception flared in her eyes.

"Well, that's all I need to hear."

Haihane snapped her head to the side to spot the speaker, and instantly felt her stomach sink.

There, standing not far from them, was a young woman dressed in the non-descript but fine attire of the invaders.

"Thanks for leading me to the prize, girly," she continued with a condescending smirk. Haihane wouldn't have recognized it, but she had a heavy Nordic accent. "I almost thought that dulling your senses to me had done the trick for everyone else."

"Ah!" Natuso exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger at the woman. "I _knew_ that it was strange that I didn't see #108!"

The woman snickered, and reached into a pocket and pulled out an elaborately detailed pocket-watch on a silver chain.

"Yes, well, now I don't have to follow you around any more, and I can leave this god-forsaken country," she wound the clock a few times, and then its brightly polished metal sufaces flared against a non-existent light. "_Seinn: Fastr!"_

There was a sudden blur of motion, and then Haihane felt pain.

It came in suddenly, like a rain of hammer-blows all across her body even as a blur of motion surged around her. She could only make out vague outlines, snippets of detail that quickly blurred and faded as whatever the strange woman had done to allow her such speed. It was like looking for shapes in smoke that was being blow away.

Desperately, she lashed out with her claw at a sudden glint of metal.

And was then extremely gratified when a sound like tortured metal wailed out followed by seeing the woman go flying through the air with a shocked look on her face before slamming into a tree. She staggered away on wobbly feet, one hand holding her aching head and another still holding the watch.

Confused, she looked down at the thing.

"No!" she cursed loudly when she saw the state it was in, and threw it away in a rage. She spat, and glared over at Haihane. "Do you have any idea what you've _done?_ How much research and work you've _ruined?_"

"No," Haihane answered, and smirked. She raised her hands and flexed her fingers ominously, prepared to take her time with this encounter. "And I don't care, either."

This probably wasn't the person responsible for all of this, but she didn't care a whole lot at this point. She would make sure that this foreigner paid the price for coming to this city.

"Jävla ris-ätende _narr!_" the woman snarled, and pointed a single finger at Haihane. _"_You're going to die screaming, you _freak_. Just like the rest of your kind!"

Haihane blinked at the word, and the hatred in her words. It was the first time a human had spoken to her like that: like she was lesser than them. It was an unsettling experience.

"No," yet another voice said, startling everyone present. It took Haihane a moment to realize that it was Shirou who had spoken, and when she did she couldn't stop herself from looking to her side to get a look at him.

He was hunched over, a fierce scowl on his face as he slowing came to his feet.

"I will not allow this. _Trace on._" He intoned, and the way he said it made Haihane nervous.

That was the only warning given before the air came alive with streaks of silver and a whistling whoosh as blades appeared and then rocketed forward with deadly purpose.

The woman swore and quickly spat out a series of foreign words. Again there was a sudden rush and shimmering of air, this time concentrated almost wholly in front of her. The hail of blades hit the intangible barrier and careened away before lodging themselves into the ground like so many grave-markers.

"Hah!" the woman laughed happily as she emerged unscathed from the onslaught. "You'll have to do better than _that_, Magus-killer!"

Shirou didn't answer, lurching forward on shaky legs.

"_My body is made out of blades,"_ he said instead.

The words were spoken with cold determination that chilled Haihane to the bone. There was something... inhuman about the way Shirou said them. She didn't know why she thought so, but the feeling was there.

_"_I've only just begun," he boasted coolly, and straightened his back. _"Steel is my body and fire is my blood,"_

Listening to Shirou was, in some way, like how she had always imagined a demon would speak: similar in all ways possible to a human, but different in all the ways that mattered. The words were alien, carried within them a shard of something _other_. Something that she couldn't conceive of.

The woman rushed forward, but Shirou was undistracted even as he twisted away from her, warding her away with the swords in his hands.

_"I have created over a thousand blades,"_

The two circled, the one wary and uncertain while the other seemed to almost be in a daze.

But the way he leapt forward and attacked the woman like a whirlwind proved the lie of this. The woman was forced to throw something into that deadly maelstrom of blows, and suddenly the cluttered room was filled with a blinding light. It lasted only for a moment before vanishing, but it was enough to force Shirou to pause in order to regain his bearings.

_"Unknown to death, nor known to life,"_

Shirou leapt away from what looked like a blade of wind, but even so it tore a ragged slash across his chest, ruining his shirt and sending a thin trail of blood soaring through the air.

But Shirou remained undaunted, and just kept chanting those strange, unnatural words.

_"Withstood pain to create many weapons,"_

Cursing loudly, the woman tried to reach into a pocket. But Shirou moved swift, and crossed the space between them and sliced at her neck with deadly precision. It was only her equally quick retreat that saved her from an early decapitation.

The woman danced away into the foliage, no doubt hoping that the presence of trees and other overgrowth would protect her.

Strangely, Shirou didn't press his advantage.

_"Yet, those hands will never hold anything," _ he said instead.

"You think spouting nonsense will save you, Magus-Killer?" the woman laughed. "You're a fool! I had expected more from your sealing designation!"

Haihane couldn't see from her angle, but Shirou gave a small smile at that.

"You were right to," he told her calmly. _"So, as I pray: Unlimited Blade Works."_

A wave of fire suddenly washed out from Shirou, burning away the ruined city of Shin-Tokyo, replacing it with the field of swords. There was no mistaking it: this _had_ to be what kusano was talking about when she had tried explaining where her Ashikabi had gone. There was no other possibility.

In the distance a red sun rested on the horizon, casting sinister light across the sprawling wasteland that spanned out into infinity in all directions.

Above them, nestled among clouds dyed red and gold by a dying sun that, were titanic cogs.

And all around them, glittering blades. Peerless weapons, each of them a perfect in every possible way.

"Oh god," Natsuo whispered beside her, staring at his surroundings in open-mouthed awe. "What just happened? Where are we?"

Haihane could only stare at the world around her in amazement. Gone was the overgrown courtyard filled with its fruit-laden trees. Gone was the world she knew.

And in its place... was this nightmarish realm with its impossible vistas.

"What the hell just happened?" she cursed, wildly looking around at her surroundings.

"Onii-chan," Kusano whispered, suddenly fearful. "Why? Why come back?"

Shirou, on the other hand, was glowering angrily.

"Is this what you wanted?" The young man in question shouted at the suddenly paralyzed woman, gesturing with both hands to the barren landscape that surrounded them. "Is this worth all the suffering you have caused?"

Which seemed to break the spell of her fascination, because she sneered back at him.

"You have to ask? This, along with all those other creatures and their masters, would be worth any price." She asked in return, her voice dismissive. "Only a worthless magus would think otherwise."

Shirou let his arms fall, and instead stared hard at the woman. His mouth contorted into a scowl, and his postured became rigid.

"I won't let fear stop me any longer," Shirou growled out, cold fury in his voice. "This world is _mine_, along with everything that goes with it!"

He raised a hand, and the world around them _thrummed_ as the titanic cogs in the sky turned. The desolate ground beneath their feet vibrated, and for a moment Haihane thought that it was an earthquake but soon realized that it was merely the sound of those thunderous gears shifting that was causing it. She could feel it reverberating through her chest, so powerful was it.

"I will walk the path of the Shura," the creature that was called Shirou said over the cacophony, and lowered his hand. "You, and all others who defy my ideal, will die a thousand deaths."

The woman scoffed open a this, an arrogant smile gracing her lips.

"And what makes you think you have a chance?" she asked confidently, and pulled out a small length of golden chain from a pocket. "This field of blades is no match for my Mystic Code. You only have two hands, after all. You'll die here, or on a slab after I've pried every secret from your body."

Shirou smiled beatifically, undaunted by her casual threat.

"Your words have no meaning here, and your trinket will not save you," He stated, still smiling brightly. "In this place, at this time, defying me is _forbidden_."

The word echoes from every surface, hums and reverberates from every blade, rumbles down from the ponderous cogs high above them. The nightmare-world that was Shirou's soul _sang_ with the sound of denial.

And then, from every angle, something answered. It began as a distant click-clack sound, like wooden blocks striking one another only thunderously loud. And then, as impossible as it seemed,

For a moment it looked only like an outline: an insinuation of a shape against the dying sun in the distance. A slow movement that lacked a source. An illusion, a dream of something greater.

And then shadows appeared inside it, definition seeping in at the edges of its existence. Uncertain shapes became arms, legs, faces. A dream, or rather a nightmare, became just a bit more real. Colour began to spread through it, blotchy dark blues of bruises and old wounds appearing across luminous sky-blue that was occasionally interrupted by rivulets of dark red. A necklace of bones and skulls acquired a sun-bleached whiteness, even as ragged and worn vestments gained brilliant vermillion silk and bright gold.

Six eyes became bloodshot and three vicious snarls gained bloodied-pink teeth. Titanic feet thundered against the ground as the gigantic form strode through the field of blades.

"Asura," the young woman breathed out, suddenly terrified. "No, that's impossible-!"

"Impossible?" Shirou asked, and shrugged slowly. Six hands reached out, and from the sky six enormous blades rained down into them. "Not in this place. Not at this time." Three mouths opened and screamed out a furious war-cry, three unearthly voices declared their intent to all of existence: to kill. The sound of its rage resonated from each perfectly formed blade, echoed down from the ponderously hanging cogs above and caused the world to rumble.

"It's not the real thing, and it certainly won't last," Shirou acquiesced, almost completely unheard. "A fake god for world of fakes: the Asura of the North."

And with that the Asura charged, its footfalls like the boulders raining upon the ground from the heavens. The lone woman could only stare, her body frozen with fear.

The Asura thundered forward through the field of blades, three voices sounding out divine fury. The woman didn't move a muscle, not even when the angry god whipped one of those blades around in a perfect arc and cleanly bisected her. Two more blades slashed the woman further, and then a another four.

It was quite possibly the most anticlimactic battle of all time, but without a doubt one of the most grisly that Haihane had ever seen. Sure, she'd seen Karasuba cut people apart before. But she'd never turned them into a rain of blood and body-parts. (Although she'd certainly _tried_.)

It wasn't nearly as long or drawn out as she'd originally hoped the death to be, but she wasn't about to argue with the man who could create _that_.

The Asura surveyed its handiwork, and then snorted derisively. Its head twisted slightly, allowing one of its three faces to glower down at its creator.

Shirou stared into the face of an angry god of his own creation, and he did not blink. Not when its eyes bled, not when it bent over almost double to come face to face with him and screamed with fury. He took only a single step backwards to brace himself against the blast of its voice.

"You can't frighten me," he informed the god coolly. "You're only my mask."

He raised a hand, and snapped his fingers. The world shuddered, and the Asura of the North wailed with fury before promptly disappearing just as it had appeared: losing first detail and definition and then

And then the wasteland melted away, and they found themselves once more in the ruins of Shin-Tokyo. The swords that Shirou had previously conjured were gone, leaving only the blood and gore that had been their would-be abductor.

Shirou let out a long sigh, and visibly sagged. He allowed himself to sit down hard on the ground, and looking around.

The young man's gaze landed on them, more specifically on Kusano, and his expression softened.

"Kuu-chan," he said quietly, smiling weakly. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Stupid Onii-chan!" the little girl cried, and promptly attack-glomped him while pounding tiny fists against him to demonstrate just how upset she was. "Kuu-chan was so worried!"

"I'm sorry, Kuu," the young man said again, smiling softly. "I couldn't come back until now,"

"Kuu-chan wasn't talking about that!" the little girl wailed, and buried her face in her Ashikabi's shoulder. "Onii-chan went back! He went back to that horrible place, and everything else..."

Shirou stiffened at this, and then carefully pried the little girl off of him so that they could be face to face.

"Kuu-chan," he began, sounding uncertain. "I'm sorry about that as well, but I'm going to have to go back there more times."

"No!" Kusano refuted petulantly. "You can't!"

"I have to, Kuu-chan," Shirou said, "I have to save the others. I have to make this right."

Kusano sniffled, and then hugged her Ashikabi once more.

"Only to save the onee-chans," she acquiesced. "And then never again! And no more 'sura mask."

Shirou gave her a wan smile, and stood up once more.

"I promise, Kuu-chan," he told her. "Once there is nobody else to save, I'll never go back ever again."

Haihane could recognize a lie disguised as truth when she heard it, and while Shirou obviously meant what he said she was certain that he had just given himself a wide berth to work with.

Remembering the way the little girl had taken care of him, Haihane felt that lying to her in this manner was a poor way to reward her loyalty. But what could she do?

Well...

"And I'll make sure he does. I'll help him," she chirped, spotting an opportunity to kill two birds with one stone. This way she could make the people who had ruined her home and killed her friends pay while also repaying #108 for her kindness. "But only if Kuu-chan promises to take good care of Natsuo," she added, giving a sly wink to Kusano.

"Really?" the little girl said, surprised at her offer. The way she scrunched her face up with hope made Haihane wonder if the girl had originally been an attempt to weaponize cuteness before they settled on plant-growth and manipulation. "You promise?"

Shirou looked equally surprised at her sudden offer, and then comprehension seemed to sink in. He nodded grimly at her, a small frown on his face.

"That sounds like a good idea," he agreed slowly, watching her carefully.

"Then It's settled," Haihane said, giving a slow smile. "We'll beat the bad guys," slowly, so very _slowly_. "Save the others," whichever were left, she supposed. The way the woman had claimed that she would die screaming like all the rest wasn't exactly promising. "And then come back together."

That, at least, she could be sure of.


	36. LLL

_Transcribed (Sorta) From Reality_

**Syroc: **Whoa, I totes forgot I made this. I should publish this._  
_

*_Does so*_

**LLL**

"I'm telling you, it's all a conshpirashy!"

The outburst came from the mouth of Yasaka, who in the midst of the chaos that had descended upon Shin-Tokyo as the Sekirei Plan continued, decided that it would be a good idea to take refuge in one of the safest places in the city: the North.

And from there it was only a matter of time before we ran into each other, and now here he was, drinking from a seemingly never-ending supply of booze that Kazehana was dubiously supplying. The first cup had been to calm his frayed nerves. The second cup had been to relax. The third and fourth cups had been merely to be friendly. After that he'd started losing count, but he maintained that he was 'only' on his eighth.

By now everyone else had gotten tired of the spectacle and had gone about their business. Only Kazehana and I remained to keep my friend company. (Kazehana had made a few surreptitious attempts to vacate the area, but each time Yasaka shouted for more sake with uncanny timing.)

However, it seemed that somewhere in his booze-addled mind an idea was forming.

"Ah? What do you mean?" I decided to humour him. He was so far gone by now that I don't think it would matter what I said: he would go on regardless of what anyone thought.

"All these big-chested, nubile women running arrroouwwooound toooown!" the young man slurred out, and punched the air with the fist that was still holding his cup of sake. The alcohol sloshed around, splashing on the living room table as he clumsily tried to make his point. "Fighting, and ruining the plashe! It's all part of the conshpirashy!"

"Really?" I said, not bothering to hide my amusement at his antics. "And what exactly is their plan?"

"They wanna repopulate the woerld wish bushty shuper-women!" Yasaka went on as if everything he was saying made perfect sense. "They wanna- wanna make normal women sheem strange!"

"Jeez, where did you find this guy, Lover-kun?" Kazehana said with a raised eyebrow. "He's crazier than Yukari!"

Yasaka took offense at this, and demonstrated this by shaking his cup angrily at one of the four different images of Kazehana that was sliding around in his vision. It was the wrong one.

"Don't you laugh at me! I'm on to you, shuper-booby-lady!" Yasaka accused loudly and wobbled a bit where he sat. "You can't fool me! I'm imperv- imper- pervy im-" he scowled fiercly as he realized that his mouth was refusing to cooperate with him, and decided to try a new approach. "I'm immune to your feminine wilesh!"

"Oh really?" Kazehana said, grinning like a fox.

"Yesh! Only my idol, my precious Kagari-san, hash de keysh to my heart!" Yasaka asserted, once more punching the air and splashing sake in the process. "Sho composhed, shuch poise! Alwaysh calm! He'sh like a, uh, a, a herring! "

"A heron, maybe?" I correct him gently, unable to stop the grin from appearing on my lips.

"That'sh what I shaid!" the young man said resentfully. "Don't interrupt me, 'Miya-shan! I'm trying to explain why Kagari-shan is better than women!"

By now I could see Kazehana was barely containing her laughter, and I could imagine why that was. Homura had only recently been 'outed', and the novelty of his amazing gender-switch still hadn't worn out yet.

I don't know whether Yasaka would be thrilled or mortified that his man-crush had turned into a woman. To be honest, though, I don't think he would know either.

Yasaka trailed off, mumbling to himself incoherently about his imagined conspiracy. Occasionally he would get loud, spouting some nonsense or other about boobies and a 'magical vajoo', but I was prepared to let all this slide.

And then he scrambled to his feet, (only managing to fall over once,) his eyes wide with sudden revelation.

"They'd hafta have a weird and cool name, like, like, like _T__he lady lover's league_!" he all-but shouted, obviously proud of himself for managing to think of this.

"The what?" I asked, stifling a chuckle.

"_The Lady Lover's League_!" Yasaka repeated, even louder than before.

"The Lady Lover's League?" I said, stifling a chuckle.

"Nonono, not like that!" the drunk young man beside me admonished, and gave me a nudge on my shoulder. "Like this: _The Lady lover's League_," his voice was hushed, like he was speaking aloud a terrible secret.

I laughed, and would have let all this go as the ramblings of one extremely intoxicated young man.

But something else was distracting me.

"What's that sound?" I asked, tilting my head a bit to strain my hearing. "It, it sounds like an engine-"

And then the wall closest to the street feel inwards, having been replaced by the grille of a massive APC. The house rocked on its foundations as the vehicle rudely ploughed into the building, knocking Yasaka off his feet and rolling forward.

"Sh*t!" I cursed, and already there were swords in my hands. If the Clocktower wanted me, they would have to fight me first.

"What the hell?!" Kazehana echoed, and in one smooth motion was on her feet.

"Murf fwrg mafflpagh!" Yasaka shouted into the floor, having found himself in a tangled heap of limbs and pain.

The vehicle backed out of the hole it had created, allowing rubble and loose pieces of wood to fall.

Two men calmly walked through the newly-created hole in Izume Inn, both of them clad in strange uniforms. They looked like those worm by the Disciplinary Squad, but more masculine. More edges, more metal. Pointy bits.

One I recognized as that of Hiroto, and I would have run him through in an instant were it not for his companion.

"Who here dares speak of The Lady Lover's League?!" he demanded haughtily, and tossed his hair. Inexplicably sparkles fell from it and a rainbow-array of light shined behind him. "Let them stand and be counted as the fools they are!"

"mff-FMRRRGHL!" Yasaka tried to shout, but again the floor was providing an unforeseen obstacle.

The other man, with whom I was infinitely more familiar with, smiled wanly down at me. I could do nothing but stare at him.

"Hello, Shirou," he said. "I'm glad we could meet again, even if these aren't the ideal circumstances."

My mouth opened of its own accord and words fell out of it without regard to my own blank mind.

"Kiritsugu?" I said quietly, not quite certain if I could allow myself to believe in this. "Dad?"

"Yeah, it's me," the original Magus Killer said with a nod. "No, I didn't die."

"B, but we cremated you!" I said, trying to make sense of what was going on. "We made a shrine for you!"

"Actually, you didn't," My absentee-father explained. "It just looked like me," he seemed to notice my mortified expression, and quickly added upon this statement. "But it was a very nice shrine! One of the best I've seen!"

"W, why would you do that?" I asked hollowly. "Why would you fake your own death?"

Kiritsugu smiled softly, and spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture.

"Because as leader of The Lady lover's League, I had certain obligations to see to," he explained. "Obligations that I couldn't involve you in."

For what seemed like a long time I could not speak. My brain simply could not process the sheer nonsense that had just been thrown at me.

"... You left me alone because you had to run one of the most ridiculous-sounding conspiracies of all time?" I asked, flabbergasted at what I was being forced to contend with.

"No- well, yes," Kiritsugu admitte, sounding a bit remorseful. "To be fair, though, the name wasn't my idea."

"Indeed!" Minaka interjected and proudly struck a pose. "It was I, our glorious leader's second-in-command who determined the name of our clandestine organization!"

I looked over at Minaka and, upon seeing the excited madness in his eyes, decided that I really didn't want to know just what was going on.

"But why?"

Kiritsugu paused, and fidgeted slightly in agitation. It was clear that he didn't actually want to answer this question.

But he did anyways.

"Because I like the ladies, Shirou," he said eventually. "I really, really like the ladies."

A pregnant silence set in, and it gave birth to an awkward silence that was begging to be broken.

"What," I said flatly, so shocked at what I was hearing that I couldn't even make it sound like a question.

"Yeah, and when my old friend Minaka told me what he was doing over here, I knew I had to get involved," my father went on, blithely destroying the mental image I had cultivated of him for years. "I mean, c'mon! Women tailored down to the genome to want to shack up? This is my kind of scheme!"

"B, but you're the Magus Killer!" I cried out in protest. "People fear you all over the world!"

"And you know what?" Kiritsugue asked rhetorically, shrugging as he did. "I gained that reputation while hanging around a bunch of ladies. Hot, sexy amazon-ladies."

"I, that, but, wha-?!"

"Personally, I prefer to think of myself as a lady-killer," Kiritsugu continued without seeming to mind my fumbling attempt to rationalize all the madness that I was hearing. "But I guess it's that whole 'you have sex with one sheep' rule in full effect. And I guess I did kill a lot of magi in my time. But all that's in the past now, because you're here! You can set my legacy straight! You'll be my successor!"

"I, but I thought, aren't- What do you mean, successor?!" I shouted in confusion.

I had left behind all the familiar touchstones of my old life. I had long ago passed the point of rationality. I was far beyond sanity, and had thus left everything that mine was built upon behind. My mind was a white haze of chaos and strange, punctuated by all the women in my life.

... Which, now that I think about it, might have been a bit more than average.

Suddenly, I didn't like where this was going. It meant that, in some small way, I was complicit in all of this madness.

"Shirou, stop for a moment and think;" Kiritsugu advised, and held up a hand to count off certain points. "You're a young man with a troubled past. You can give a five-star chef a run for his money. You're quiet, nice and helpful to everyone around you. You have an unbending sense of justice. And on top of all this, you're cut like one of the better class of Greek gods," he lowered his hand as this final point was tallied, and nodded towards me. "You aren't a chick-magnet, Shirou. You're a black hole of oestrogen. Your mere presence is enough to attract any and every woman, given enough time. Do you think that happened by accident?"

"Yes?" I answer, full of trepidation. I was beginning to suspect that I didn't want to know the answer, that the logic behind all of this would make even my internal reality weep with frustration.

"Hah!" Minaka laughs, pointing at me. "Show what you know! Tell him, o glorious leader! Tell him of your genius!"

Kiritsugu cast an annoyed glance over towards the eccentric scientist, but made no further comment. Instead, he turned back to Shirou and elaborated.

"Shirou, you've exceeded every expectation I've ever had for you," Kiritsugu explained. "At first, it was just simple things. Making you learn how to cook, keeping you fit, teaching you how to treat others – I did all of this to help you with the ladies! But you just showed so much talent. You wanted to be more!"

My adoptive father had, somehow, struck a dramatic pose without seeming to make any movements.

"And so I had to fake my death to give you the most powerful of weapons in the war of love: a tragic past. I knew it would only be a matter of time, then."

"And now that you're here, the League can use your lady-killing skills to take over the world!" Minaka added on, growing more excited with every word spoken. Towards the end he was shouting and gesticulating wildly. "Just as soon we implanting you with a brain-chip to store your brain-waves and then implant them into super-freaky cyborg-clones! The world will be ours once its women come flocking to our soldiers!"

The room was silent for a moment as everyone took a moment to process just what Minaka had said. The moment did not last, however, and soon enough my adoptive father sighed heavily.

"Seriously Minaka, do you even listen to the things you say sometimes?" Kiritsugu asked, shaking his head.

"What? Why would I listen to myself?" the eccentric scientist asked. "That would mean I was talking to myself. And that's the sort of thing that crazy people do."

"That's what I-" Kiritsugu paused, uncertain of his choice of words. "But you are-" again he hesitated, and then he simply shrugged. "Y'know what? Just forget it."

"But of course, o great leader!" Minaka turned to a nearby adjunct and pointed at me theatrically. "Release the harem bunnies!"

At his command a crowd of ridiculously well-endowed young women flounced into the room and surrounded me. My swords were lost in a sea of bouncing breasts and yielding flesh, and hands latched onto me and carried me away. Not once did I put up a fight, however. Not once did I resist.

My brain was still hurting too much from all the stupidity that had been inflicted on me in one night. It was just too much to contain.

And that was how my life as the focus for all female romantic attention started.


	37. The Contents of Steel

So, something of a followup on that one MoS snippet that was made once upon a time. Also, I am aware that MoS Shirou would not have UBW: I just don't care. I like the line too much not to find a use for it.

**The Contents of Steel**

The young woman's only mistake had been to date a woefully unbalanced young man, and then showing a terrible lapse in judgment by telling him where she lived at some point. When she had broken up with him a few weeks later, he had taken it personally. _Very_ personally.

And then, when his frail ego and damaged pride somehow attracted the affections of a symbiotic, psychic alien, that mistake had finally claimed her life. The young man and his new lover had broken into her house one evening and then killed her.

That was what the reports that I had read earlier today had stated, anyways. And while I was prepared to take everything that MBI was telling me with a grain of salt and a heaping pile of distrust, there was a certain note of truth about all of it.

And, while this was a great deal more mundane than the usual monsters I dealt with, I couldn't turn a blind eye to it. He and his creature needed to be stopped before anyone else made the terrible mistake of trusting them.

Which was why I was casually watching him dig in to the cupcake that I had arranged for him to be served at a restaurant in mid-town Shin-Tokyo. I had to make sure that everything went according to plan. And when I was certain that he had eaten as much as he was going to, I stood up and sat opposite to him.

He looked surprised and a bit confused by this, and was probably going to say something before I beat him to the punch.

"Please, do not move Mr. Ishida," I ask him coolly, but politely. And then I placed a small detonator on the table. "Or I will have to push this button, which will cause you to explode."

"What?" he sputtered, inadvertently spraying tiny cupcake-crumbs as he did. "What are you- cause me to explode? What kind of crazy-"

"You would be amazed at what modern technology can do these days, Mr. Ishida," I tell him, and shrug. "The cupcake you just ingested is just a new kind of bomb."

While not _technically_ true, (because magic was hardly the most technological of fields) it wasn't exactly a lie. The way I had carefully searched for a specific species of sugarcane, along with my painstakingly slow efforts to form a grinding wheel that would infuse flour with volatile spirits had to qualify my work as something of a science.

The detonator was a lie, just like that slice of cake he had enjoyed. The former was just for show, while the latter was actually a bomb set to go off after a certain amount of time after a human body tried to digest it after it had been primed with some of my prana. The hobbies of my former life had turned out to be unexpectedly useful in my line of work.

From the way he stared at me, I could tell that he didn't believe a word of it. And then he saw something in my eyes that turned his disbelief into cold realization that yes, I was completely serious.

"You're bluffing. You'd be killed in the blast as well," he reasoned with a shaken voice.

"You just _ate_ my bomb," I inform him, silently amused by his attempts to outsmart me. Of all the things he could have chosen to drag up, _that_ was what he chose? "Just how powerful do you think it is? But be assured that if you do not answer my questions honestly the effects will be very messy."

"What do you want?" he asked.

"I want you to answer my questions," I tell him patiently. "Firstly, did you ask number 63 to help you in the murder of your ex-girlfriend?"

"Wh-what?" he stuttered, choking on the words with his fear and surprise. "I, I don't know what you're talking abou-"

"Please don't lie," I interrupt him. "You're just wasting my time."

"I-I-I," he continued uncertainly, and then what little fire of resistance still in him was smothered under my cold stare. "Yes. I did,"

"Good. And she agreed?"

"Y, yes?" he said uncertainly, not sure with where I was going with this.

"Thank you. Now, for my last question," and now I tried to sound a bit warmer. I wanted him to agree _quickly_, before terrible things happened to his insides. By the way he trembled slightly, I wasn't sure that I had succeeded. "Would you mind bringing her here for me?"

He looked dumbfounded by my question, his mouth slightly agape. And then the words seemed to fully register, and his mouth closed and barely stopped itself from forming a smile.

"Seriously?" he said, barely containing his excitement. I wonder for a brief moment if I had ever worn my thoughts on my sleeve like that. "You're not joking?"

"No," I told him. "Please, go get her."

Without waiting for further encouragement the young man was out of his seat and fleeing diner, no doubt to retrieve her from whatever task he had set her to. I sighed briefly, and glanced at a clock on the wall, quietly hoping that my plans wouldn't be undone because I had chosen the exact _wrong_ moment to set this meeting in motion.

But it soon turned out that my worries were unfounded, because only a few moments later the doors burst open once more as the young man and the creature bound to him returned.

That made things much easier. I was under the impression that it would be very difficult to ask the young woman questions if her Ashikabi was killed.

"Oh, you stupid piece of sh*t!" young Mr. Ishida shouted as he burst back into the diner wearing a triumphant grin. "You're gonna learn how badly you messed up _now!_ Kasumi, kill this idiot!"

"With pleasure, Ashikabi-san," the creature said, and advanced.

Well, I suppose that that answered whatever questions I had had for her readily enough. I could now be relatively certain that she was willingly complicit in the crime, which was useful information in my ongoing study of the Sekirei.

"You are number 63, Kasumi?" I ask, just to be sure. I didn't want to discount the possibility that the man had acquired yet another number in the brief interval since I had read his file earlier that day.

"Yes," she said, and without warning the sword was bared. "But you don't worry about that any longer. Your time is almost done."

And if my suspicions hadn't been proven a moment ago, they certainly would have been when she leaped forward in order to relieve my neck of the heavy burden of the head resting on it. And she would have been successful, too, if I hadn't seen this coming from a mile away.

I calmly duck below the blade, and was already preparing a counter for her next attack even as she twisted her wrist around in order to bring it in for another attack. There would only be a few moments, but it would be enough.

"_Trace on,"_ I chant softly, and carefully flood my body with prana in preparation for what was to come. "_My body is made of steel."_

I chant softly, and wince slightly as rows upon rows of edges form beneath my skin. Without a care for the consequences, I merely raised an arm to block the side-slice that was coming.

The sekirei's weapon cuts through the outer layers of my flesh, but soon stops much shallower than it should have. Her surprise was obvious: a widening of her eyes, a slight opening of her mouth in disbelief. The way she dropped her now blunted sword and recoiled from me only confirmed this.

She tried to back away from me, afraid of something that should not be.

But it was far too late for that.

Faster than any human had a right to be, I lunge at her and with my other hand I jab a rigidly flat hand into her stomach. The force with which I applied the blow ensured that my fingers, though they might have been crude and blunt for the task, acted just like a dagger.

"No," She gasps, her hands latching onto my arm as if to plead with me. "Please..."

"There is no mercy in metal," I inform the creature, and with that I _twist _my hand inside her and then wrench it free. She manages only a gasp of agony before all of her vaunted strength leaves her, and she sags away from me.

The young man may have ordered her to kill them, but it was still her hand that had done the deed. She was still a willing accomplice. She could not be allowed to destroy any more lives.

Thinking of the young man reminded me that I had not killed him yet. With an annoyed sigh, I turned my head to the side in order to look at the cowering little monster of a human who was even now trying to scrabble away from me with wide, terrified eyes.

How disgusting that someone so eager to end the lives of others would meet his own end in such an undignified manner. While most of the monsters I made it my purpose in life to destroy were not eager to meet death, they very rarely lacked the pride to do so showing such fear. (Most of them were simply surprised, in fact.)

With a small shrug, I turn and walk away. From the way he let out a relieved sigh, I can only imagine that he thought I was going to let him live.

Which was foolish, of course.

When I was certain I was a safe distance away, I turned around and watched him intently, silently counting down. The adrenaline pumping through his veins would have had to accelerated things, but not by much.

But there was no fire, no explosion. That would have quite likely endangered whatever innocent bystanders that were still to be found. No, there was none of that. Instead, there were just a few dozen pounds of kinetic force suddenly released inside of his small intestines and stomach all at once. Which caused his belly to explode outwards.

Just as I had told him: messy.

"My my, you _are_ effective, mister assassin," I recognized the voice almost instantly: the creature that called itself Karasuba. "You should wear your uniform, you know. So people know who you work for."

She was waiting for me just outside the diner, wearing that strange smile she seemed to wear whenever she saw me at work.

"How odd," I comment, and without an ounce of concern for the chaos I was leaving behind "I'm certain I told you wait at headquarters until I was finished with this. Yet here you are. You would make a poor assistant."

"I couldn't just leave my _taichou_ to fend for himself in a new city, now could I?" she purred, even as she surveyed my work. "Benitsubasa is going to be _so_ jealous when I tell you were spent today with another woman."

"Her feelings on the matter are irrelevant," I inform her curtly, and send a text message to Minaka to send the clean-up crew over to take care of the mess I had created.

The creature didn't seem to be listening, because she just kept going.

"Especially when I tell her how you impaled her with your hard-"

"If you're trying to get a rise out of me, you should stop wasting your time," I cut her off, seeing where she was going with this. "I have work to do."

"'We' have work to do, you mean," she corrects me, sounding a bit annoyed.

I look back down at number 63. She had been all-too willing to kill on her master's behalf. And then I look over at Karasuba. Eager, murderous Karasuba.

Monsters, to be sure. But were they all? Or only most? How many would be saved by their deaths? Would it be more than 108- no, 107?

"No," I tell her. "I really don't."

There were still things I needed to investigate before my real work began.


End file.
